TWC: Game of Thrones
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: The Hearts have been Bound, but Jack and Regina still wage war for the throne. With Dafydd in exile and Marmoreal in chaos, all of Underland threatens to topple with the struggle for the Heart of Crims. Vows will be broken and blood will be shed before the crown rests on a royal head.
1. Mine

**Reminder**: This is the fourth and final installment in a quadrilogy. If you haven't read the other Books in this series, please click the link to my profile, read the prior three stories, and then come back. Don't worry, I'll wait. Book One is _Search for the Azure Princess_, Book Two is _Rescue from the Outlands_, and Book Three is _To Capture a Butterfly_. I'm serious, if you haven't read or don't remember those books, you really want to go do that right now, or else you'll be incredibly confused.

**Author's Note**: Welcome, dear Reader, to Book Four. Did you miss me? I am so very, very sorry that it took me so long to rewrite this book. It's all Dafydd's fault, because he is a stubborn, ridiculous Outlander who cannot be trusted. However, the entire story is finally written and completed, and barring a potential tiny edit or small scene addition here or there, the only thing that should prevent me from actually updating regularly is real life scheduling conflicts for myself or my beta.

As I've said three times already, I apologize profusely for any character mangling that occurs due to my own laziness, failure to research, or lack of foresight. Character mangling that happens due to the plot [and as I hope you've realized by now, there is an obscene amount of that], I make no apologies for. However, as I keep promising, I will eventually fix everything I've broken [except the character deaths, I can't do much about those]. And hey, since this is the last Book in the series, you get the satisfaction of knowing that I really do have to start fixing everything!

**Overall Warning**: While I've managed to (barely) avoid needing to rate this Book M, there will be semi-frequent instances of violence, spousal neglect and abuse, drug addiction, Madness (lots of Madness), sexual content, gore, and character deaths. As in plural, multiple occasions of death. If you start feeling like I'm trying to kill everybody off… Well, okay, I don't actually have much of a defense except to say that there will be people left alive at the end, which makes me better than Shakespeare and the Greeks.

I will do my level best to provide chapter-specific warnings where appropriate, as I don't want to accidentally trigger anyone.

**Chapter-Specific Warning**: In this chapter there is referenced and portrayed drug use (in the form of Emotion Tea). There are also two scenes of a sexual nature, wherein one of the participants is not sober (or sane) and thus is unable to give true, informed consent to the proceedings. One of these scenes is, at best, dub-con given under duress and coercion. Nothing is shown in graphic detail, but please proceed with caution if you have any trigger or squick issues.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Reminder on what Regina's wearing: cdn. thebargainingbride wp- content/ uploads/ 2011/ 01/ red- wedding- dresses. jpg

**Original Character Face Claims**: Just to refresh your memory. Since there are at this point a hell of a lot of OCs.

Regina Hightopp: Evanna Lynch (with ginger curls and green eyes)  
Dafydd Hightopp: Kellan Lutz (a la the Twilight series, and blue eyes)  
Jack Heart: Philip Winchester (a la the SyFy _Alice_ miniseries)  
Lily Adamas: Zooey Deschanel  
Ioan Hightopp: Rufus Sewell  
Mary Contrary: Emma Stone  
Rhys Hightopp: Steven Strait  
Afanen Hightopp: Nikki Reed (a la the Twilight series)  
Gregan Hightopp: Jake Lloyd  
Gwynyth Hightopp: Helen Mirren  
Clover: Isla Fisher  
Azalea: Meryl Streep

**Disclaimer**: This should be obvious because I've been saying it since the beginning, so I'm only going to make this overall disclaimer once [any disclaimers in future chapters will cover specific details]. If you recognize it, I don't own it. This refers to material from either of the Disney movies, the SyFy miniseries, any books, or fanfictions. Everything except my own characters is owned by Lewis Carroll, Tim Burton, the Disney Corporation, and SyFy. If you think you've seen it in another fanfiction, I truly do apologize; I don't mean to steal any other author's idea, and if I did it was purely unintentional and coincidental. However, if you do know of other stories with similar ideas,_please_ tell me so I can give credit.

**Special Thanks**: As always, thanks to my fantastic beta Ranguvar27 for the great work.

* * *

It was a beautiful night for a ball.

Winter had come with a vengeance to the northern country of Crims. The temperature had dropped, the winds had begun biting, and tonight the first snow of the season was falling; the big, fluffy snowflakes that make the land look enchanted.

It was the Hightopp holiday of Hogmanay, and the twenty-first birthday of the Hightopp-born Queen of Crims. But more importantly, tonight's ball celebrated the Blessing of their Majesties the King and Queen of Hearts.

Inside the glass and gold fairy tale castle of Isla Affalin, everything was aglow. The vast ballroom twinkled with candlelight and the gleam of the bejeweled finery of the Nobles of the Heart Court. Shining brightest of all were the golden, ruby-studded crowns of the King and Queen.

King Jacoby of the Elder Branch of Praecordia was engaged in dancing a tarantella with his mother-in-law, Queen Alice Clava. The Blue Queen of Witzend, like many of the Nobles of Crims, was garbed in white; a token of mourning to mark the recent deaths of Mirana the White of Marmoreal, High Queen of Underland, of Kalen her King, and of Leferidae, the Duke of Tenniel and Red Lion of Underland. The subdued white of the assembled peerage served as a perfect backdrop to showcase the stain of color that was the bride.

Queen Regina Miraget Hightopp-Clava of the Younger Branch of Praecordia's wedding gown was a dark blood red, in keeping with her status as Queen of Hearts. The corseted bodice was tied within an inch of its life, and the full skirt was a chaotic explosion of ruffles. The dark red of the dress, coupled with the heavy gold and ruby jewelry, was meant to emphasize Regina's position as a strong, powerful Queen. Instead, the costume highlighted how pale and frail she was, and how much she had deteriorated in the last three months.

Regina flitted through the ballroom like a butterfly, stopping to chat with a Noble here, to charmingly demand a dance there. She looked almost normal; one could almost be tempted to believe that the Queen was perfectly well.

Unless or until one looked Her Majesty in the eyes, or heard her speak.

Once upon a time, Regina's eyes, slightly too large for her face, had been leaf green and flecked with gold. That was before she fell victim to the Madness that was the curse of her Hightopp ancestors. Now, Regina's eyes burned a sickly topaz, and were surrounded by dark, bruise-like shadows. Very often, they would be glazed over with either the wintery sheen of the Chill, or the dull fog of the Emotion Tea she secretly drank in alarming quantities in an attempt to keep her equilibrium. Her speech was similiarly affected. In Madness, her formerly sweet voice had slipped into the harsh Outlandish brogue of her ancestors, an accent that grew thicker the more agitated she was.

The ball tonight represented a momentous change for Crims. With Regina so severely incapacitated by her Madness, it would fall to her new husband Jacoby to rule in her stead as King Regent. This highly unusual arrangement was further complicated by the fact that Jacoby was the last scion of Iracebeth, the Bloody Red Queen who had been deposed by Alice the Champion over thirty years prior. Quite apart from the awkwardness of the fact that Regina's mother had defeated Jacoby's, there was great concern that Jacoby might prove to be very much like his mother, and plunge Crims back into insanity.

Still, there was nothing for it. The Vows had been spoken; Jacoby and Regina were Bonded, Bound and Blessed. They were husband and wife, King and Queen, until the day Death parted them.

In the depths of her mind, where Regina dwelt— trapped by the Madness, but not herself Mad— she wondered if that Day might not be coming sooner rather than later.

She loved Jack; at least, she had thought she might, once. She still believed he could become something magnificent, achieve amazing things for Crims. But it seemed quite plain that Jack did not love her; at least, not enough to help her cure her Madness. Jack's status as Regent looked more permanent by the hour. He was effecting new laws and policy changes more quickly than she could keep up. Jack hardly ever came to visit Regina in the Northern tower, where he'd moved her after the Madness took hold; instead, all his free time was spent with his mistress Afanen— ironically, the former lover of Regina's own Beloved, Dafydd.

At the thought of her former Champion, Regina's heart gave a great lurch. _Oh, Dafydd_…

He had not been present this evening, when the announcement of the Blessing had been made. Regina knew she shouldn't be surprised. Dafydd was at his southern estate, Annwyn, and had been since he was poisoned at the Suitors' Joust almost thirteen weeks prior. He could have no way of knowing what would happen today. But that didn't matter to her Madness. As far as It was concerned, Dafydd was her Champion, and he was supposed to save her. Wasn't that what Prince Charmings and knights in shining armor atop charging steeds did? They were meant to rescue their lady fair from danger, and carry her into their happily ever after. But Dafydd had failed in his quest, and now Regina was trapped. She could never marry Dafydd now; Blessing Vows lasted for life. She and Jack were husband and wife until one of them died. She would never be Dafydd's, because she was Bound to Jack. She would never be Duchess of Annwyn; she was the Red Queen of Hearts.

She squeezed her eyes tight against the tears that gathered, hugging herself as the first Chill raced up her spine and made her break out in gooseflesh. Fates, she couldn't do this; she couldn't hide deep enough in her mind to escape. Her Madness gave her perfect clarity; she knew everything she said and did, and her every move in Madness was geared towards survival. There was nowhere to run from this knowledge, and oh, she was afraid; terrified of the life she was doomed to live.

What had happened to Afanen's honeyed mead, she wondered desolately. She'd felt so warm after drinking that brew, so confident. Why could she not sustain that feeling? She wanted to be confident that she could manage Jack and work with him to save Crims. She hated feeling this small and afraid.

Rubbing her Chilled arms, Regina abruptly walked out of the ballroom with muscles gone stiff from the Cold, wandering out onto the snow-dusted balcony. Maybe if she shocked herself with cold, it would shock her out of the Chill? Even if it didn't, it was dark out here, and quiet. All the bright golden glittering inside hurt her eyes.

She tilted her head back, staring at the night sky. The clouds had parted a little; enough to see the stars twinkling overhead. Some in Underland believed that each star was the soul of a deceased loved one. If that was true, Regina's foster family was up there, and all the Kingsleighs and Hightopps she'd never gotten to meet. Were they up there? Were they watching her? And if so, did they approve of what she'd done?

"Dornt judge me," she softly begged her ancestors. "Aam sure Ah hae a plan."

A muted _thump_ distracted Regina from her musings. Looking around, she turned towards the shadowy corner she thought the sound had come from.

"Hullo?" she called.

She stared, perplexed, at the gently swinging rope ladder that hung against the wall. How odd; she didn't remember ordering rope ladders as part of the design of her palace. Was this another of Jack's changes? It seemed quite silly to her, but perhaps that was the point— a bit of silliness to alleviate the gravity of ruling?

She craned her head back, peering into the darkness. If she wasn't mistaken, the rope ladder originated on Jack's balcony, the one outside his bedroom— their bedroom, now. Regina felt her pale cheeks on fire with hot blood. She had seen nude statues and paintings, and there had been that illustrated magazine Mary Ascot had showed her when they were girls in the Aboveground before their governess had snatched it away… But in terms of marital relations, Regina's knowledge was very vague. Tonight was her wedding night, but she wasn't entirely certain what that entailed. Surely Jack knew? From what she understood, men learned these things quite a lot earlier than women. Would he know, and take care of her?

What would this night have been like with Dafydd, she wondered (oh heavens, she could feel her blush deepening!). She'd heard the giggles of her clanswomen; if even half the stories were true, she would have been a lucky woman, indeed. She winced, that thought sending a lance of white-hot pain straight through her. She had to stop thinking about her Beloved, it was too painful.

Was she meant to climb up the ladder to Jack, then? She didn't know all of the Underlandian wedding customs; she'd been too busy trying to get out of the marriage to research what would happen at the wedding.

Or suppose that instead of Jack, the ladder led to thieves, or kidnappers? She did have rotten luck on her birthdays; what if the ladder led to more trouble? Then again, if it lead _to_ trouble, that meant it lead _away_ from being trapped in her marriage…

Decision made, Regina grasped the ladder and began to climb. It wasn't easy; her dress was heavy and threw her off-balance, and her fingers were so numbed by cold and Chill that she was half certain she was about to plummet to her death. But still she climbed, grateful everyone was in the ballroom so there was no one to witness her monkeying up the ladder.

Risking a glance up, Regina saw a shadowed figure waiting for her on the balcony. _Oh perfect_, she thought grumpily, _kidnappers after all_. Still, there was no avoiding it. Whoever this was, they had seen her on the ladder, and would just follow her if she tried to climb down and elude them. No, she was trapped. It was a very good thing she had experience dealing with kidnappers.

As she reached the balcony railing, the hooded figure extended a hand to help her up. Well, if it was kidnappers again, at least they were polite this time.

Somehow, within the blink of an eye, she was pulled into a fervent embrace, and her Beloved was busily kissing her senseless. She gasped, rocking onto her tiptoes and meeting his urgency with her own, clinging to his shoulders to keep herself upright. By the Crowns, she hadn't realized how badly she'd wanted this until it had happened-!

It felt almost like Madness, she thought dazedly as she found herself pressed against the cold glass wall. She was lost in a daze, trapped in a fog; she couldn't be sure anything was real, apart from him. But if this was Madness, she would happily surrender to it, if only Dafydd didn't let go.

She wondered, in a remote corner of her brain that had somehow managed not to be consumed by him (she should Have Words with that part of herself; couldn't it see how utterly lovely it was to be held in thrall by him?), if she should feel ashamed of herself for what she was doing. In the Above, it was scandalous, improper, and decidedly bad _ton_ to sneak away with a man and allow him to take such liberties. To allow this from a man who wasn't even her husband was even worse. Should she be shamed for acting the harlot?

Then his arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. _Oh, hang the ton_, she thought rebelliously. Who cared what they thought, when she needed Dafydd's kiss so very much? Besides, she wasn't of the _ton_ anymore; she was a Queen of Underland. And anyways, this was the only way to ease the _ache_ that threatened to rip her apart…

He groaned, feeling he would never have her close enough, helpless to keep from kissing her. He knew they were playing with fire; if they were discovered, Regina would lose everything before she'd even gotten a chance to fight for it. But he could feel Crims Itself humming in approval of their union, could feel the Heart concealing them in a blanket of concealment and privacy. With the land Itself egging him on, he simply didn't have the willpower to tear his mouth from Regina's. He'd wanted this for so very long; he needed just one more kiss… just one more… perhaps one last, final… oh Fates, who was he kidding?

She pressed against him, shifting restlessly. Heavens, she hardly knew what she was yearning for; she was terribly thankful that Dafydd seemed to understand without needing to ask. He groaned at her inarticulate little sound, putting his hands on her shoulders and forcibly ripping himself away from her before he forgot himself and took her right here against the wall. Gently pushing away, he staggered backwards until his back hit the balcony railing. He slumped against the balustrade, panting, transfixed on the sight of Regina's disheveled curls, her red and swollen lips, the high color in her cheeks and her over-bright, enormous eyes. The knowledge that he'd done that to her sparked a fierce and healthy dose of possessive pride deep in his gut; let Jack try to lay claim to what belonged to him!

She tilted her head back, needing to see his face, to assure herself that he was really there and that she wasn't dreaming. She and her mathair did have that regrettable tendency to confuse dreams with reality… When she focused on him, though, she frowned.

"Ye hae hair," she blurted out, blinking in confusion.

For as long as she'd known him, Dafydd had been clean-shaven, and worn his hair cropped extremely closely to his head. She'd heard Dafydd's mother Gwynyth, his sister-in-law Briallen, and occasionally even Afanen bemoan the loss of his curly hair and badgering him to grow it out again. But he had always resisted, saying that his closely shaved hair was more appropriate for a soldier. Now, after a little over three months away from Court, Dafydd's hair had begun to grow out, falling in his eyes and flirting with his neck in wavy locks, and his strong jaw now sported the beginnings of a beard. While not as blond as his brother Niall had been, his hair was sandy brown, contrasting beautifully with his blue eyes.

An amused grin quirked his lips. "Three months of separation, and that's all you can say? I have hair?"  
She sniffed, wiping away her tears with an impatient hand. "It was either 'at, ur yell at ye fur hoo lang yoo've bin gone."  
Dafydd winced. "I have no desire to be on the wrong side of your temper. You're terrifying when you're angry," he said, attempting a joke before smiling soothingly and crossing back to her. "What's wrong, cariad?"

Wrong? Oh yes, there was something wrong, wasn't there? Funny, it was hard to focus when his fingers were stroking her spine like that. She could feel his touch burning through her clothes, and it sent such a curious sensation through her; molten heat and shivery chills that met and pooled low in her belly. It was quite distracting… and utterly wonderful.

"Ye waur reit," she said breathlessly, clinging to him. "Ah shoods hae listened tae ye. Ah ne'er shoods hae agreed tae 'at glaikit Joost."

He was there in an instant, cradling her against his solid chest. Even as she clung to him, she shivered; she could feel every plane and curve of his body intimately pressed against hers. How had she never noticed before? She was well aware of how attractive her Betrothed was, and she knew how other women desired him. Fates, she'd been jealous of the teasing attention he'd paid to other women before they'd declared themselves. How could she not have noticed him like this, in the way a woman notices a man?

"It doesn't matter," Dafydd said, threading his fingers through her hair and not caring one jot that he was ruining her coiffure. "We're together now, and I'm taking you away from here. We have to preserve your birthday tradition," he added with a dark smile.  
Regina shook her head, whimpering as her eyes filled with tears. "Ah cannae," she whispered. "Ah cannae rin awa' frae Blessin' Vows."  
Dafydd stilled. "What?"

Sniffling, Regina held up her left hand, showing him the heavy gold and blood ruby ring Jack had placed on her finger.

"We said th' Blessin' Vows thes efternuin," she said dully. "Aam merrit."

Slowly, clumsily, Dafydd released Regina, staggering backwards as he tried to comprehend. Married. She was married? Jack had succeeded in stealing her from him?

"I thought you were going to break the Betrothal," he said blankly.

He watched as Regina frowned, shaking her head as if to clear it. His broken heart lurched in his chest; she looked so lost, so confused. For a moment, her eyes cleared, green breaking through the topaz, but they reverted back just as quickly.

"Ah dornt… Ah had tae…" she muttered, rubbing her temples. "But he'll be a guid Kin', willnae he? Much better job than Ah've dain… His clockwork's tickin' properly, nae crumbs in his butter… I've got tint in th' Caucus Race again…"

A sharp stab of pain made Dafydd grunt and cling to the balcony railing as he went lightheaded and saw stars. He clutched his throbbing left shoulder, not needing to see the faint pinpricks of moisture he felt on his palm to know what was happening.

They had lost each other again, and now he was nearly out of Time.

"Whit can we dae, Dai?" Regina asked, wrapping her arms around herself as a wave of goosebumps broke out over her flesh.

He stared back at her helplessly. What could be done? Blessing Vows were unbreakable. Even if Dafydd stole Regina away, they could never wed. Any hope of a happy ending, of a family, was gone now. Another stabbing pain pierced Dafydd as he thought of that little baby. His son, his and Regina's child… Zhithene had promised him a son, a Prince of the Promise, but how could that ever happen now? Not only had Jack taken Dafydd's wife, but his son as well…

They stared at each other, stricken, bound in the grief of all that had been taken from them. Before either was aware they had moved, they met in the middle in a fierce, desperate, silent goodbye.

Dafydd frowned as he deepened the kiss. Something wasn't right. Regina was a complete innocent, shy and yielding; she was never as forceful and dominant as she was being now. Not that he minded her taking charge; it was just… different.

Moreover, he knew how his Gia tasted; tea and honey and blue skies and Madness. This taste was wrong. He knew she had been nearly poisoned with Emotion Teas, but he knew this taste; this was summer and bonfires, shadows and wine…

He wrenched his mouth from hers, the half-forgotten tingling of his lips and tongue confirming what he already knew to be true.

"You've been drugged," he bit out, holding her at arms' length.

He was going to kill Afanen with his bare hands.

Lily had told him that Regina was being fed Tea, but she had only mentioned Doubt. Not this; not Lust. He still remembered the taste of Lust Tea; Afanen had honed her brewing skills on him. They had been wild and experimental when they were young; they'd joked that they could never tell when he was hopped up on Tea, because he'd always been so hot for her…

And Afanen had used her poison on Regina.

He was going to destroy her.

Something dark stirred behind Regina's eyes, and she dropped her gaze to her hands. "Ah needed it," she said, her voice low. "It helps."

If ever there was a thought he never wanted to think, it was of Regina lusting after Jack.

Before he could get angry, though, he was distracted by Regina's fingers sliding up and down his forearms. Snapping from his daze, he found her looking up at him from under her lashes. Warning alarms blared in his head; he knew that Look, knew the effects of this Tea. This wasn't good…

He could feel the Lust beginning to affect him; he remembered this hazy frenzy, the ever-building need. But he'd never felt it this intensely before; this _ache_ was enough to kill him.

He tried to step away, knowing he needed distance from her before the Lust— or his own lust— drove him too far.

"Gia," he started, his voice a warning.

But Regina's next words stopped him cold, while simultaneously setting him aflame.

"It's mah weddin' nicht," she shook her, leaning into his chest. "But Ah shooldnae be sharin' it wi' Jack."

It took him a moment to process what she'd said. And when he had, his brain stuttered to a halt.

"It shoods be uir nicht," Regina said, her voice unfairly husky as her fingers danced up his arms. "Yoo're th' husband ay mah heart, nae Jack."

Oh, it was hard; so very hard not to attack her right there. He'd wanted her for so long, and here she was offering herself up to him… And yet he paused. He couldn't be certain if this was Regina or the Tea talking, and as much as he wanted her (and he had very _hard_ evidence that he did), he couldn't countenance taking advantage of her when she was drugged.

"Gia, I-" he tried helplessly, only for her to silence him again.  
"Dornt we deserve thes?" she asked. "Th' whole Coort believes us lovers anyways, wa nae benefit frae it, jist ance?"

She looked up at him, and through the haze of Madness and the glaze of Tea, he saw a wellspring of real emotions— regret, sadness, and pain foremost among them.

"We've tint everythin' else, Dai. Cannae we tak' thes fur ourselves, jist fur tonecht?"

Well… brimini. They _had_ lost everything; the Court _did_ believe them to be lovers. Moral quandaries aside, didn't they deserve just one night together?

"Alright, ma taavi," he said quietly. "If you're sure."  
"Ah am sure," she nodded. "Ah loove ye."

Boldly, she took his hand and led him to the bed, which had been prepared for the royal consummation with candles and rose petals. While enraged with the knowledge that this had all been prepared with Jack in mind, Dafydd did appreciate that someone (probably Clover and Azalea) had remembered that Regina was a romantic.

"Shoods we blaw it th' candles?" Regina asked, threading her fingers together nervously.  
"No," he negated, cradling her face between his hands. "I want to see you."

She bit her lip, smiling shyly. Weirdly, he was glad to see her nerves; in a strange way it affirmed that Regina was choosing this, not the Tea (or at least, not _just_ the Tea). If it had only been the Lust, she would have been ripping his clothes off by now. He caressed her face, smiling at her reassuringly as he removed her crown and the heavy jewelry she was wearing. He turned back to her, drawing her back into his arms as he sat them down, caressing her arms and back. He waited until he felt her beginning to relax before he leaned down to kiss her; hopefully the kiss would keep her calm, as well as delaying his own selfish needs.

Well, he decided, if he was damning himself, he might as well do it thoroughly. He didn't know where their Ring was, but he didn't have time to look for it now. In any case, it didn't matter; Vows in Underland didn't require Rings to make them official.

"Blood of my veins," he said softly, twining his fingers with hers. "Air of my lungs. Seed of my body. Fire of my heart. All that I am, I put into your keeping. I bind myself to you, from now until Death parts us."

He smiled at her sadly, knowing the words of the Hightopp Joining Rite didn't mean much. They could never be truly Blessed, not when she belonged to Jack. But he had been Bound to her for years already; no harm in finally saying the words that might once have made them husband and wife in truth.

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound. Swallowing, she tried again, with the same result.

"Ah cannae spick th' Vows back tae ye," she said sadly, her eyes sparkling with tears.  
"I know, cariad," he soothed her, cradling her face. "It's not important."

She shook her head, frowning in frustration. A moment later her face cleared, and she grinned mischievously.

"Ah, Regina, tak' thee Dafydd tae be mah wedded husband," she said, drawing nearer to him. "Tae hae ain tae hauld, frae thes day forward, fur bettur fur worse, fur richer fur poorer, in sickness an' in health, tae love, cherish, an' tae obey, till death us dae part, accordin' tae God's holy ordinance; an' theretae Ah gife thee mah troth."  
Dafydd frowned in confusion. "I thought you couldn't-?"  
"Underandian vows," Regina cut in, grinning at her cleverness. "Underlain cannae say anythin' abit Vows ay th' Abovegroond."  
A slow smile grew over his face as he realized what that meant. "My wife," he breathed in wonder.  
"Hello, husband," Regina giggled, her topaz irises greening a little. "Ur ye plannin' tae make thes official onytime suin?"

Grinning, he swooped in to crash his lips on hers. Fates, his _wife_. It didn't matter if no one else ever knew the truth; they were married. Bound for the rest of their lives, and Jack could do nothing about it.

And it was their wedding night. They had quite a lot to celebrate…

* * *

"I love you," he whispered.  
"Ah love ye, ma taavi," she returned, weakly winding her arms around him. "Sae much."

They collapsed in a heap onto the mattress, breathless and shaking. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach, tightening his arms around her as she melted into him, a satisfied, sated sigh leaving her lips. Dafydd knew he needed to leave before Jack came, but he was utterly incapable of moving; he couldn't leave her, not yet, not when they'd just bound themselves together so tightly.

Sighing contently, Dafydd buried his head in Regina's hair. He could spend a lifetime like this, with her… Or he could die happy, which might be the more likely scenario at this point. Either way, he was a happy man.

"Noo aam quite merrit," she murmured, closing her eyes.

He smiled faintly, before her words resonated with him. Married… Regina had gotten married tonight. Her husband was downstairs, and would be up at any moment. If Jack caught them together, there would be hell to pay. Regina might even lose her crown, and Dafydd wouldn't put it past the new King Regent to reinstate the death penalty, just so he could have the pleasure of removing Dafydd's head from his shoulders.

So, although he could spend the rest of his life in this bed with Regina, to save both their lives he needed to leave. What in either world had he done to deserve so cruel a fate?

"Don't fall asleep, cariad," he said, rubbing her back. "Jack will be here soon."  
Regina groaned, burying her face in his chest. "Cannae we rin awa'?"  
"Now that, I know you don't mean," he said drily, kissing the top of her head.

Gently, he eased Regina up into a seated position, kissing her lingeringly. He pulled away slowly, gritting his teeth; he could still taste the Lust on her. If it hadn't worn off yet, that meant she'd still be under its effects when Jack…

He growled beneath his breath, cutting off that line of thought. He didn't want to think about Jack putting his hands on _his_ woman, trying to take what belonged to him. But there was nothing else he could do, unless he killed Jack…

Oh Fates, that was tempting. But until Dafydd knew how many people in the castle were in Jack's pocket, he couldn't risk it. More importantly, he absolutely would _not_ take the chance that one of the servants might kill Regina in revenge for Jack's murder before Dafydd could get her out.

They dressed silently, located a change of bed linens, and replaced the bloody fitted sheet with a fresh one, throwing the soiled one into the fire. Once every trace of Dafydd's presence had been erased, they stared at each other, lost. What now? They had each spoken Vows, but they could never be married, not truly. When would they even see each other again?

Dafydd swallowed hard. "No matter what happens," he rasped, "I will always love you."  
"An' ye will ne'er leave mah heart," Regina replied.

He nodded, committing her face to memory. Then, silently, he crossed to the balcony and grabbed the rope ladder, rolling it up and placing it back in his rucksack. Stroking Regina's cheek in passing, he pressed his fingers to the secret catch in the wall, opening the doorway to the secret passages that honeycombed the castle. Forcing himself to move, he walked through the doorway, leaving Regina to her fate.

He didn't make it far— he was still within the royal suite, in fact— when he halted, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. He sat numbly, arms dangling off his knees, as he stared into space.

It didn't matter how many steps he took away from her. No matter the physical distance between them, in his mind and his heart he was still in that bedroom with her, locked in a sacred lovers' embrace.

Fates, that had been amazing. _She_ was amazing. Dafydd was no stranger to sex, but it had never been like that— so intense, so completely overwhelming. He hadn't thought it was possible to fall deeper in love with her, but incredibly that was exactly what was happening. Sharing that with her, making love with her… It had been utterly beautiful. Even though she'd been drugged.

What would their lovemaking be like when she wasn't dosed with Tea, he wondered (assuming of course that someday he'd have a chance to be with her again)? He'd like to think that Regina would be just as responsive to him, that she hadn't been so enthusiastic simply because of the Lust. What would it be like when her taste wasn't marred by the aftertang of the Tea, when all of her responses were her own? What would it be like to have as much time as he wanted to please her and torture her, without fear of her husband interrupting them? Would it be just as amazing as this had been… or could it possibly be even better?

Her husband… Dafydd allowed himself the luxury of a furious, snarling growl. He had disliked Jack from the instant he set eyes on the man at the Suitors' Joust, but ever since losing that final match he'd utterly detested him. Knowing that he'd lost Regina to such an unworthy snake had been galling, and it had only gotten worse as Jack showed his true colors.

However, Dafydd's anger then paled in comparison to his fury now.

Jack was going to walk into that bedroom soon. He would intrude on the private universe Dafydd and Regina had created, and he was going to sully the beauty of what they'd shared. Dafydd had Jack's measure, and he knew that the King would take no care with Regina. He wouldn't take the time to learn her body, to coax out her responses. He would go directly for what he wanted, and he would give her nothing in return. The thought that Jack was going to defile _his_ Regina was bad enough; the fact that Jack had the right to do so was an insult that Dafydd would ensure Jack paid dearly for. The idea that Regina would have to endure it… Fates, that she could even wind up pregnant with that snake's child… It was a thought he couldn't bear.

Now what? Regina and Jack were married, and nothing could be done about it. If Jack couldn't be removed, what was the point of the Resistance? What in the world could Dafydd do, with a wife he couldn't claim and an enemy he couldn't defeat? And besides, he thought dully, the Heartbreak had gotten much worse tonight. The bruise was bleeding, which meant at least one of the shards would soon break his skin. Once that happened, he was a goner. Maybe it would be best if he returned to Annwyn to await the end, or maybe Tearmunn.

In the next moment, he mentally slapped himself back into sense. He wasn't dead yet, and Regina was still in danger. For as long as he drew breath, he would fight to protect his wife.

He and Lily knew that Afanen had been feeding Regina Tea. That, at least, they could do something about. Afanen must have gotten her supplies from somewhere; her henchmen could be dealt with. And who knew? Maybe he'd get really lucky, and Jack would be involved. Causing harm to the Queen wouldn't dissolve the marriage, but it might be enough to remove Jack from power as Regent. That much he could do for Regina, before Death came for him.

The thought gave Dafydd pause. Death… He'd known death was a possibility of the Heartbreak, but until tonight it hadn't been a concrete fact. Now it was a certainty. His broken heart was going to kill him, and soon. What would happen to his family when he died? He was his mathair's last living son, and he provided for Briallen and her boys. They would need to be looked after. Annwyn would of course go to Gregan, with dower funds for Gwynyth and Briallen. He would need to settle those arrangements, before the end.

As for him… he would have to decide what to do with his remains. Would he be buried on the Brae in Tearmunn, beside his brother? Would he be buried at Annwyn, or maybe at Isla Affalin, so he could be close to Regina in death?

What did it mean, to die? What would become of him? The Nazari had a belief that warriors' souls were preserved in their weapons. Regina believed that the souls of her loved ones were up in the stars. The old Hightopps maintained that their dead became part of the Song of the Brae. Of all those fates, Dafydd hoped most that he would join the Music. That way, he could still wrap around Regina, and whisper in her ear.

But first things first, he decided, shaking himself free of his morbid thoughts and hoisting himself off the stone floor. He had tasks yet to accomplish before he died. He should focus on that, before he resigned himself to Death.

* * *

The baths, Regina had long ago decided, were one of her favorite things about Underland. Unlike in the Uplands, the water always remained the perfect temperature. She could soak in the hot water till morning, if she so chose. And right now, that sounded like a much better option than returning to her nuptial bed.

As she reached for the glass bottle of blue Calm, she paused, cocking her head and holding her breath as she listened. Reassured by the sounds of Jack's snores, she settled back into the tub, tilting back the bottle for a long swallow.

She wondered dully whether her night with Jack would have been easier if Dafydd hadn't come. When she'd lived Above, Lady Ascot had been very sure to impress upon both Jane and Mary the duties of a wife, and how she must be obedient to the (frustratingly unspecified) needs of her husband. Regina had been fully prepared to submit to Jack, to lie back and think of England, as it were. It would have been unpleasant, but she would have endured it.

But Dafydd had miraculously come, and he'd shown her how it could be between man and wife. It had been beautiful, wonderful; she wouldn't deny that. He had made her feel things she hadn't even thought possible.

But that was the danger of knowledge, wasn't it? Once learned, it could never be unlearned. She knew now what lovemaking could be… And she also knew it would never be that way with Jack. Oh, it was painful to know what she would never again experience…

Regina tilted her head back, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts drifted.

_Once Dafydd had disappeared into the passage hidden behind the wall, Regina had sunk onto the bed. She'd had no desire to don her heavy, restrictive wedding gown and rejoin the ball. She would just wait for Jack up here, she'd decided. It had already been quite late when she escaped the ballroom, and she didn't know how much time had passed since her departure. Parties didn't last forever, not even in Underland; Jack would have to retire sometime._

_And indeed, he had walked through the door not too terribly long thereafter. For a long moment he had just silently observed her, an unreadable expression on his face. She'd fought not to shift beneath his gaze, but truth be told he was making her distinctly uneasy._

"_I've heard rumours of you and your lover," he'd said, an undercurrent of warning in his mild voice._

_She had stilled; even the blood in her veins had ceased to flow for a moment. What had Jack heard? The same tired old whispers, no doubt. She could defend herself… Except that the rumours were true now, weren't they? She and Dafydd were lovers; she wasn't intact; she had been unfaithful to Jack. She could no longer ignore the whispers, because she and Dafydd had made them true._

_Still…_

"_Wa ur ye concerned?" she had asked cooly. "Ye seem quite content wi' yer bidey-in."_

_Jack's inhale told her she had landed a blow. And it felt surprisingly good to one-up him. She had been conciliatory and obliging for so long; it felt good to strike back, even if it was a petty point._

_For a moment they had stared at each other, and it occurred to Regina that battle lines had just been drawn. The bedroom was a war zone, and they were enemies about to destroy each other._

_Jack's eyes had narrowed slightly, and he had drawn a careful breath before replying._

"_Afanen was a distraction while I waited for our wedding," he replied. "But we're married now, Regina. I expect you to remain faithful to me. To us. To what our union means for Crims."_

_She hadn't been convinced, and it must have shown in her face, because Jack stepped forward until he was looming over her._

"_Let me be perfectly clear," he'd said, and now the warning was explicit. "I am willing to put my lover aside, but I expect you to do the same. I will have eyes on you. If I suspect you of seeing Dafydd, or trying to contact him, I will have him eliminated."_

_Regina stared at Jack, the blood in her veins freezing instantly as a Chill shot through all her limbs. He had said… He couldn't possibly mean…_

"_Ye wooldnae," she breathed.  
Jack smiled unpleasantly. "Wouldn't I? I am far more like my mother than I care to admit, Regina. Don't test me."_

_That silenced her, and she swallowed hard. She couldn't be sure Jack was serious… But she didn't dare test him. She had already lost Dafydd once today; she couldn't risk his life._

"_Do we understand each other?" he had asked.  
"Ye main swear tae flin' Afanen ower," she had replied hoarsely. "She is tae lae th' palace an' nae return."  
"Agreed, my dove. She'll be dismissed first thing in the morning," Jack had said smoothly. "We shall be man and wife, with naught between us."_

_He had held out his hand, a calculating look in his eyes. Feeling faint, Regina had laid her hand in his, making her deal with the devil._

_Jack had smiled, a dark look of triumph in his eyes. "And now that that's settled, I do believe we're meant to consummate our union."_

_His words had made the Chill that much worse. He had threatened the life of her lover, and now he expected her to meekly submit to him?_

_But she couldn't cross him. She had promised to honor their union, and that meant submission. She had no doubt that if she set even one toe out of line, she would pay for it with Dafydd's life, and that was the one thing she could never risk. Closing her eyes against her tears, she had reached up to untie the laces of her negligee._

Drawing a deep breath, Regina forcefully cut off that line of thinking. There was no need to torture herself by reliving it; suffice to say that Jack had been satisfied with that one perfunctory rutting, and had fallen asleep immediately thereafter. Once he'd started snoring, Regina had abandoned his bed for the bathtub, and now here she was.

She wished desperately that her Madness would let her black out and be insensible to the world. This marriage would be so much easier if she had no idea what was happening. But alas, she couldn't escape the clarity. She had hung herself, and now she would have to watch herself die.

She sunk down lower in the water as the first tear fell, pressing her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound of her sobs.

_I'm so sorry, Dafydd… ma taavi…_

* * *

_It was one of those unbearably lovely days. Warm sun, the Trees humming in harmony with the Flowers while the wind kept time. Witzend pranced through the tall grass, proudly conscious of the blue ribbon neatly tied around her neck in a bow. She meowed in delight, following in her human's dancing footsteps._

_When she caught sight of her mistress, Witzend paused, sitting on her haunches in confusion. Her human was a little girl dressed in frilly, stark white, her red-gold curls restrained in a severe braid. This human, while she shared the curls (unbound now) and the dreamy eyes, was full-grown, garbed in a flowing, one-shouldered gown of amethyst and sapphire. In her hand was a paintbrush, dripping with multiple colors of paint._

"_Mistress?" Witzend mewed, feeling vaguely panicked. "Is that you?"  
"Of course it is," Regina laughed. "Silly Cat, haven't you been watching me?"  
"What are you doing?" Witzend asked, indicating Not Quite Mistress' paintbrush.  
"Well, what does it look like?" Regina asked. "I must paint the flowers! There's such an awful lot of them, you see."  
"But why do you need to?" Witzend complained. "Why can't we play? Or you could tell me a story!"  
"But you know all the stories already, you cheat," Regina said, her voice suddenly chilly as she turned away. "You left me so you could learn all the stories' endings, so what else can I do? You've even changed my story, selfish thing!"_

_Witzend stared at Regina in horror, but her mistress no longer seemed to realize she was there._

"_You went and changed my tapestry, and now I've lost the thread of the pattern," she mumbled, wringing her hands as she paced. "I don't know which bits of the picture are mine or yours, so how can I know who the whole belongs to? I'll not make a stitch more until I know who owns the picture."_

The brooding, echoey quiet of the Cave of Contingency was shattered by the sharp, loud, pained yowls of the grief-stricken Cheshire Cat as she jerked awake from the nightmare. She sprinted through the subterranean cavern pell-mell, bashing her head against the walls and stalagmites in a futile attempt to drive the images from her mind.

"Noooo!" she screamed in agony. "What have you done?! It's not supposed to go like this! This isn't how I planned it!"

_A DANGEROUS THING, FOR A CHESHIRE CAT TO CARE OVERMUCH ABOUT ITS TOYS_, the ageless, sexless, emotionless voice of the Spirit of Underland observed.

Suddenly, the Cheshire flew into midair, as if an invisible hand had lifted her by the scruff. She yelped as the unseen force shook her hard, then plunked her onto the stalagmite that supported the rift in the Veil.

_THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED, CAT_, the Spirit replied. _YOU WANTED THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE TO BECOME A FIXED POINT, AND SO IT HAS._

"But not like this!" the Cheshire screamed, tears pouring from her overlarge blue eyes. "This path will kill her!"

_IT IS YOUR OWN FAULT IF YOU FAILED TO CONSIDER ALL OF THE VARIABLES_, the Spirit said. _THERE IS NO CHANGING COURSE NOW._

"No," the Cat cried again.

_YOU WILL WATCH_, the Spirit commanded. _YOU WILL BEAR WITNESS TO THE FUTURE YOU HAVE CREATED_.

She tried to look away, only to find that the Spirit had frozen her to the spot, forced her eyes open and fixed to the realm beyond the Veil. She tried to close her mind to the dance of Time, but she was helpless, trapped, forced to observe what she had brought to pass.

She watched, and she was broken.

A wild, Mad cackle clawed its way out of her throat and resounded through the silent cave. Yes, she had done all of this. Caused the birth of one, the death of three at least and likely more; completely changed the course of Underland, and destroyed the Old Guard of the past. She had changed the future, and her head reeled with the millions of futures to come.

Her thoughts unraveled, and in the chaos Madness swept in.

_After all_, the Cat giggled to herself, _here we are all a little Mad. Join the Tea Party while you can; oh, what fun is waiting to be had!_

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: I am so, so sorry. (I have the feeling I'm going to be saying that a whole lot before the end.)

There will be a BTP chapter going up (probably in a few days, depending on how quickly Rang can get it back to me). It's an M-rated, shameless PWP scene, detailing what happens during Dafydd and Regina's wedding night. If you choose to skip it, you will miss absolutely no relevant plot details.


	2. The White and The Red

**Author's Note**: I'm so sorry for the delay in posting, y'all. FFN and I had a disagreement the first time I tried to send this chapter out to my beta, and then I was hit by two busy weekends in a row on top of a fairly hellish week at work. The next chapter has already been sent off for beta'ing, so I'm hoping to post it more quickly.

**Chapter Warnings**: There are two brief, non-graphic depictions of sexual behavior in this chapter, wherein one of the participants is (still) Mad and under the influence of Wonderlandish drugs. In the first she gives her implied consent to the proceedings; in the second she's less than willing. In both scenes, we're still in the realm of dub-con. In addition, at the end of the chapter there's a threat of violence, and a description of a severe panic attack. Please be mindful of your triggers or squick.

**Special Thanks**: As always, millions of thanks to Ranguvar27 for the expert beta'ing!

* * *

Before burial in the Caves of the Queens, a deceased ruler or consort of Marmoreal was laid in state in the Silent Chamber of the White Palace, so that anyone in the country could come to pay their respects to the fallen.

Currently, Ioan was standing guard at the door so that Lily could have privacy as she made her goodbyes to her parents.

Lily stood, pale and grave, before the stone altar where Mirana and Kalen were displayed. Fates, indisputable evidence was right before her, and she still couldn't believe her parents were dead.

How on earth could it have happened? Her parents had been perfectly hale and healthy when she left home three weeks ago. And then suddenly, out of the blue and without any warning whatsoever… How did two healthy people suddenly just drop dead?

Swallowing hard and blinking back the stinging moisture in her eyes, Lily slowly approached her mother's side. No telltale wounds from knife or bite; no bruises or broken bones. Every hair in place, pristine and perfect… If Lily didn't know better, she'd swear Mirana was only sleeping.

"I hope your death was as peaceful as you look right now," she whispered, leaning down to kiss her mother's cheek.

Wait…

Brows furrowing, Lily leaned in for a closer look. It was small, easy to miss unless you were quite close—a tiny, perfectly round red spot on Mirana's earlobe. Strange; was that ink? Wax? Mirana's skin had no pigmentation, so what…?

She tried to wipe away the red spot, to no avail. The spot was squishy beneath her finger, almost like—

"A burn?" she murmured, reaching for a candle.

Was it Lily's imagination, or did the inside of Mirana's ear look as red and puffy as the burn on her lobe? Strange… Frown deepening, Lily walked around the altar to Kalen.

"Lily?" Ioan queried.  
"Ioan, send for the Healer?" she requested.  
"Are you alright?"  
"Fine, fine, I just… There's something odd…" she said distractedly.

She barely noticed Ioan leave; she was too busy verifying what she was pretty sure she'd just discovered. It seemed like hardly any time at all before Ioan returned with both Healer Hermoditus and Shadhavar in tow.

"You sent for me, Princess?" the Healer asked as he bowed.  
"Come take a look at this," Lily said, waving him forward. "Do you see this discoloration around Mother's ear?"

Frowning, Hermoditus shuffled forward, affixing his spectacles to his bumpy nose. Leaning in, he looked where Lily was pointing, then did a double take.

"Why… that looks like a burn," he said in surprise, opening his kit. "Yes! Something hot was poured into the Queen's ear," he declared moments later, peering down Mirana's ear canal. "That is likely what killed her. I cannot believe I did not see this earlier."  
"Check Father's ears too," Lily ordered, hardly daring to breathe.

When Hermoditus looked up a moment later, Lily had an answer to her unasked question.

"My siblings," she breathed, locking eyes with Ioan.

A moment later, they were sprinting through the castle as quickly as Lily's Fates-forsaken corset and voluminous skirts would allow. Her heart was in her throat as fear coursed through her veins. Absings, if anything happened to her brothers and sisters Lily would never forgive herself…

Finally, Ioan ushered them into a small, nondescript guest room— the sort of which was usually reserved for short visits by low-level clerks and merchants. People normally didn't wander onto the guest floor, so it was a good hiding spot for the Royal Children in case an insane poisoning assassin got any bright ideas into his or her head. Lily sighed in relief to see all of her siblings huddled together in the modest drawing room. A moment later, she was buried under an avalanche of hugs.

"We thought you were dead, too!" Gareth exclaimed, lifting a tear-stained face to look at her.  
"I'm not dead," she assured him, sitting on the couch, where she was quickly surrounded by all her siblings crowding in, trying to get as close to her as possible. "I was in Crims, with Gigi."  
"Is Gigi okay?" Draven asked, frowning. "She doesn't come here anymore, why not?"  
"Gigi's… sick," Lily said carefully, glancing at Ioan; they were going to have to discuss that later.  
"Why? Did she eat too many tarts?" Aurora asked.  
"Yes," Lily nodded. "Far too many tarts. She'll be better soon, I hope."  
"Lily? What are we going to do now?" Nerissa asked, laying her head on Lily's knee.  
"I'm going to keep you all safe," Lily promised, twisting around so she could caress all of her siblings in turn. "And I'm going to find whoever did this to our parents, and make them pay."

No, she had no time for fear, Lily reflected. She had to be strong for her siblings. They needed her to be as hard as diamonds, the one they could depend on. She had to stabilize the world for them, had to keep them safe.

Several hours later, Lily sat on the couch, desperately trying not to give in to the tears as she watched over her sleeping siblings. When her shoulders started to shake with the force of her suppressed sorrow, Ioan gently disentangled himself from where Nerissa had been using him as a pillow and crossed over to her, pulling her into his embrace.

"Od's Breech, Ioan," Lily breathed, burying her face into his shoulder to muffle her sobs.

It took a long time to get herself back under control. When she'd finally calmed down, Ioan still didn't let her go. And for once, she didn't object to his overprotective tendencies; she was fairly certain she actually needed them this time.

"They were murdered," she whispered.  
"I know, cariad," he murmured heavily.  
Lily glanced over her shoulder at her siblings. "I can't protect them," she realized with dull horror. "They aren't safe here."

Ioan's arms tightened around her, but he made no reply. She laid her weary head on his shoulder, but a sudden thought made her sit bolt upright.

"Fates," she whispered. "Oh, brimini. I'm the Queen."

Ioan shifted toward her, but suddenly his arms were a prison instead of a haven, and Fates she couldn't breathe. Trying (failing) to choke back a noise of panic, Lily lurched off the couch, tangling her fingers in her hair as she paced on shaky legs.

Blast the Trees, she thought irritably. She was Mirana and Kalen's eldest daughter, and the Crown Princess of Marmoreal. She had grown up knowing she was destined to inherit her mother's crown. But by the Aliblay, it was a burden she had never wanted. Lily wasn't Regina. She may have been born royalty, but she'd never possessed the innate regal nature of her mother or her cousin. Lily was more like Alice than anyone; she wanted adventure, not sovereign power.

But that Destiny had never been in the Oraculum, had it? She was a Princess; she must become the Queen. That was the natural order of things; it was what everyone expected.

Beyond expectation, it was what had to happen. She was the only leader Marmoreal had now. Shadhavar might be the Guardian of the White Lands, but he couldn't rule in his own right. Nor could Lily countenance abdicating in favor of any of her siblings. Mirana and Kalen had been murdered, and their killer was still at large. Until he or she had been apprehended, the remainder of the White Family would be in grave danger. There was no force in Underland that could induce Lily to place her siblings in harm's way.

So she would become the Queen. And she would make the world alright again.

* * *

The late afternoon sunshine warmed the winter air as the assembled Nobles and visiting Royals waited in the gardens of Marmoreal to learn if the Diamond Mind would accept Lily as Queen. Unlike Regina, Lily had requested to undergo her Queenmaking alone, with only Ioan, her Champion-Presumptive, as witness. The rest of the peerage was left to wait, and to ruminate.

Lily had decided to combine her Queenmaking with her parents' funeral. Mirana and Kalen had been laid to rest in a single white marble tomb, their effigies lovingly carved on the lid. The tomb was guarded by two of Mirana's beloved cherry trees, and illuminated by an everlasting flame which would be tended by the White Children.

It was a lovely tomb, Alice mused, and immanently suited for Mirana and Kalen, who since their Betrothal had never been separated for more than a day.

She and Tarrant sat at a tea table close by the tomb, less bundled up than most of their compatriots because they were used to the harsher winters of Witzend. While Alice cuddled nine-month-old Abraxas on her lap, Tarrant was thoroughly engaged in preparing them a pot of tea.

When Tarrant needed to think, he sat down at his tea table. Not the Tea Party table Alice had installed in their garden in Berserka; that was a place for celebrating and merrymaking. When he needed to put the Madness at bay, when he needed to think, Tarrant would sit at his private tea table and lose himself to his Obsession. He would choose ingredients and measure brews and heat water, and while following the concrete steps between opening his ingredient chest and handing Alice the finished product, he was able to slow his mind enough to sort through his thoughts methodically, and put them in order just long enough to make sense of them before he'd drained the dredges of his tea and his thoughts once again scattered on the breeze.

A flash in his peripheral vision caught Tarrant's attention, and he looked up to watch his daughter and son-in-law. Jack, in honor of Mirana's love of music, had brought Crims' Court Chamber Players with him and Regina. They had set up on the lawn, and the young people had fallen in to dance.

Regina wore a dress that Tarrant assumed was meant for winter wear, since it was made of wool. But it was short, like all the dresses in Crims these days, requiring Regina to wear heavy knit stockings and a capelet of blood red trimmed with ermine fur. He frowned to himself; he really didn't care for the new Royal Tailor. The man had no idea how to dress Regina.

Honeysuckle would make a good base for their tea, Tarrant mused. Humming along with the music, he added a generous amount into the tea caddy. Of course, honeysuckle was awfully sweet for a tea base… Perhaps bergamot, to ground it? He added in a pinch, nodding. Yes, definitely bergamot. It was sweet enough to compliment the honeysuckle, but had enough of a tang and earthiness to keep the tea from being too overbearingly saccharine.

He hadn't heard from Dafydd lately, he mused as he stirred the loose ingredients with a bandaged finger. For a while they'd been in regular communication, but for the past couple of weeks there had been only silence. Dafydd hadn't even sent word to his mathair, and one did not willingly put oneself on the wrong side of Gwynyth's temper. Then again, Dafydd was rather busy getting a Resistance running and trying to save his Beloved. Perhaps it wasn't surprising that he hadn't been in touch.

Watching Jack spin Regina around the dance floor, observing the stiff distance and disconnect between them which was so incongruous to newlyweds, Tarrant sighed, absently adding nettles to the mix before pouring the hot water. It had been five days since the Blessing, and Tarrant still wasn't sure what to make of his daughter's marriage. He didn't trust Jack. Regina had deteriorated so much in the last three months, and Jack was at least partially responsible for that. And now they were Betrothed, Bound, and Blessed; stuck with each other for life. Underland had no method for ending marriage, like the Aboveground concept of divorce. Not only could Regina never be free of Jack, but she could also never be with Dafydd now. Tarrant hadn't been ready to release his wee little boy into Dafydd's hands, but he would much rather have seen his precious child marry Dafydd than Jack. But there was nothing more to be said; it was done. All he could hope was that his bairn was content with the bed she'd made.

Tarrant hummed tunelessly to himself, frowning as he sniffed the brew. Now where had he gone wrong? This tea smelled sharp and bitter and full of mistakes and regret, but at the same time it was listless and muddled; a hopeless mess. This wasn't right…

"Tarrant?" Alice asked curiously.  
"Taste this brew, Teacup," Tarrant said abruptly, pushing the cup over. "Something went wrong in the middle, I'm not sure what to make of it."

Alice smiled indulgently at her husband. After so many years of marriage, she was very familiar with Tarrant's extended use of tea as a metaphoric vehicle to work through his own tangled thoughts. It wasn't often that Tarrant found himself clueless as to what ingredient a blend needed, but she was always happy to give her opinion.

She thoughtfully sniffed the tea, taking a moment to appreciate the layered scents. This was a potent brew, with strong notes masking subtler flavors; a complicated situation he was trying to make heads and tails of. Licking her lips, she took a tentative sip. As the tea hit her taste buds, she blinked rapidly, her mouth puckering as she gently set the cup down.

"Oh my," she said, coughing delicately. "Yes, I see the problem."  
Abraxas looked down into the teacup, wrinkling his little nose as he smelled the mixture. "Blech," he said expressively.  
"Aye, little man," Tarrant nodded solemnly. "Very blech."

As Tarrant and Brax made faces at each other, Alice tilted her head thoughtfully, mulling over the muddled taste of the tea. Strange, that such an intensely flavored brew should be missing its bite…

"Ginger," she said suddenly. "This tea needs heat."

Tarrant laughed softly, rolling his eyes. Aye, his Alice loved the heat and bite of ginger; if she had her way he would add it to every brew! Perhaps this time she was right, though; ginger would add a sharp note to the bergamot, while covering the bitterness of the nettle.

"Fresh or ground?" Tarrant asked, reaching for his supplies.  
"Why not both?" Alice replied. "It could be that more than one kind of heat is needed."  
"I think you may be right," Tarrant said, grating a small amount of ginger root and adding a tiny pinch of crushed ginger.  
"But it needs something sweet as well, to rescue the honeysuckle," Alice said thoughtfully. "It's nearly drowning between the bergamot and the nettle, and I love honeysuckle. Honey, perhaps? Some of the lavender honey Dafydd sent from Annwyn last spring?"

Hemming in concentration, Tarrant added a small spoonful of honey to the cup. He took a sip of the new batch, then smiled, squeezing Alice's hand in gratitude before pouring them each a cup.

As he leaned back with his doctored tea, Tarrant's gaze unfocused, his brain running backwards to a conversation he'd once had in his Madness. A vague, half-remembered memory floated into his mind of a young man with a sly dimpled grin and watchful dark eyes, a Hatter-To-Be telling tales of Hope and Action. His gaze fell into his tea again. Ginger and honey… Hope and Action…

He sat straight up. That was it; that was what Regina needed in order to defeat her Madness.

He turned in his seat to hail her, but a quick analysis stayed his hand. The young people were still dancing; the Chamber Players had struck up a lively reel, with constant exchange of partners. Let her enjoy herself a while longer; Absolem knew Regina's joys would likely be few and far between, Bound to such an intensely serious man as Jack.

In short order, Rhys had liberated Regina from Jack. Then she was passed to a Marmorean baronet, then King Shepard, before a particularly enthusiastic twirl sent her flying out on her own until a strong pair of arms caught her and held her safe. Before Regina could gather breath to voice her surprise, Dafydd twirled her to the edge of the lawn and pulled her into the safety of the densely-planted cherry orchard.

He led her through the trees, away from the noise of the party, until they were deep in the orchard and safely, completely alone. Then they stared at each other, unsure if they were truly reuniting so soon.

"Yoo're haur," Regina breathed.  
Dafydd nodded, devouring her with his gaze. "Ioan asked."  
"Ye shooldnae be," she said, wringing her hands. "If Jack sees-"  
"He wasn't paying any attention," he brushed off her concern, before quirking an eyebrow. "Do you want me to go, Gia?"

_Yes_, she knew she should say. She couldn't risk Jack's wrath for the joy of being with Dafydd again. Risking discovery like this was Mad. Not to mention, it broke every one of her Vows to Jack, and since she was stuck with him, she was trying to be a good wife.

She meant to tell Dafydd all of that. What came out instead was a rushed sigh as she grabbed him by the jerkin and crashed her lips on his.

Someday, Dafydd vowed dimly as they desperately clung to each other, they would do this properly. They would have time, and a bed he didn't have to relinquish to Jack, and he would take care of her the way she deserved. But for right now this sheltered grove, the trunk of this obliging tree, the heat they created together… this would have to be enough. At least this time, her taste wasn't marred by Lust Tea.

When it was over, they didn't separate immediately. They closed their eyes to reality, clinging to each other as if they could force a happier ending to their story.

"Ah loove ye," Regina whispered. "Nae matter whit else happens."  
"Always," Dafydd replied.

She bit her lip hard, feeling her eyes fill with tears as they reluctantly parted and straightened their clothes. By the Aliblay, it was harder to see him like this— to be together for so short a time, only to have to say goodbye again— than it would have been to simply never see each other. Their love affair could only end in tragedy now; wasn't it better to put an end to it, and spare themselves more heartache?

But oh, the thought of never seeing Dafydd again, of spending her life with nothing but enduring Jack's perfunctory, emotionless rutting… No, she couldn't bear that. Better to store up as many good memories as she could, before the inevitable end.

"We should get you back before you're missed," Dafydd said heavily.

Regina squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, blindly reaching for him and drawing him down for a final kiss. She didn't want to go. She didn't want to leave him, to return to Jack and the tower in Isla Affalin where he locked her in and she had only her Madness and Prydein for company. But she knew she must; she couldn't abandon the Heart, and so she must betray her own.

She let Dafydd lead her back through the orchard, their fingers entwined the whole way. When they could see the edge of the trees, they paused, silently turning to each other with matching expressions of misery. What could be said? "Someday" was a lie, as was "It'll be over soon;" "Goodbye" wasn't to be thought, but "Until next time" was an uncertain promise. In the end, there was only one thing to be said.

"Paint th' Flowers, mah King," she whispered, reaching up to touch his face before walking away.

He smiled bitterly at her statement— their clever, meaningless phrase that held so many meanings it was amazing that Regina's jaw didn't fall to the ground from the weight of the words. Their own private Madness, their secret promises. He would go, and she would remain; he would build, and she would paint.

As Regina reappared from the orchard, Jack's eyes narrowed suspiciously. His bride had disappeared from the dance floor a long while ago, and that infuriating Outlander as well. So Regina and Dafydd were still meeting in secret, were they? Jack would just have to see to that. He would not be cuckholded or supplanted, and if Regina thought he could then she was more Mad than he'd thought, and he'd have no choice but to take steps to counteract her. All for her own safety, of course.

The young people's impromptu ball was broken by a cheer of excitement when a figure garbed all in white approached the garden. As the Nobles chattered excitedly, Regina hurried forward to greet her cousin.

Lily walked slowly, clearly unused to the weight of the diamond crown sitting atop her black curls. Her fingers nervously clutched the clouds of tulle that comprised her short skirt, and even though she was wearing what looked like ballet slippers, Regina got the distinct impression that Lily wished she were running around barefoot, or better yet in her heavy boots and breeches.

They both halted, a couple of feet separating them. Regina heard the assembled people behind her sinking into bows and curtseys, but she found she was frozen; she could only stare at her cousin.

"Och, Lily," she breathed.

A second later, they stepped forwards as one, embracing tightly. Regina rocked Lily gently, barely hearing Lily's burdened sigh. Clearly, Underland had accepted Lily as the next Queen of Diamonds, but was Lily happy? She had never wanted the burdens of Queenship; could she come to peace with it now?

"Sae yoo're th' White Queen," she whispered.  
"And you're the Red," Lily replied, tears in her voice. "It's all back to front, isn't it? You're the one who took the White Vow-"  
"An' yoo're th' body constantly vowin' vengeance," Regina finished, trying to smile. "An' yit haur we ur, each ay us whit we woods nae be."  
"Aye," Lily sighed, pulling away.

The cousins looked at each other silently for a moment before Lily took a step back, raising her head.

"Underland has accepted me to rule Marmoreal," she said unnecessarily. "And as my first act, I hereby call a Meeting of the Deck."

The Courtiers glanced at each other in silent surprise. There hadn't been a Meeting of the Four Queens of the Shuffle Alliance since the days of Mirana and Iracebeth's mother. For years now, the Queens had each ruled separately, leaving each others' realms alone. For what purpose could Queen Lily want to call a Meeting of the Deck?

Alice stepped forward, head held high. "Witzend will answer the Queen's call."  
"An' Crims," Regina added, somewhat uncertain if she should pledge for Crims when she held no power.  
"Snud will attend the Meet," Queen Lamia stated.  
Lily nodded in acknowledgement. "The meeting will be held in a fortnight, if Time holds himself steady. You are all welcome to remain in Marmoreal as my guests until then. For now, I believe it's customary we feast."

Lily threaded her arm through Regina's as they headed back up the lane. Alice followed close behind, observing her daughter and her niece. The White Queen and the Red, neither of them in their proper colors… She sighed. She didn't foresee this situation ending happily.

* * *

In bygone days, the Lions of the Red Lands and the Unicorns of the White Realms had been implacable foes. The famous poem of the Lion and the Unicorn chasing each other through town hadn't been penned without good cause, after all, though that incarnation of the rivalry had been unusually vicious. Shadhavar flattered himself that he and Leferidae had been rather more civil about things.

Had been…

He flinched. It was unfathomable to think that Leferidae was gone, finite, locked in the past. How had it happened?

The Red Lion's demise had been overshadowed by the poisoning of High Queen Mirana and King Kalen. Shadhavar couldn't be certain if the Mad Queen of Hearts even knew of her guardian's death. As protector of the White Realms, Shadhavar should have been focused on finding the White Queen's murderer. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He had lost his Lion, his shining Red, his Lef. What did the rest matter?

His mind raced as he approached the capital city of Isla Affalin. Apart from the need to settle his partner's affairs, there was a sacred trust between the Lions and the Unicorns that must be upheld. He was honor-bound to keep the oath.

In days long gone by, there had been an entire pride of Lions and a herd of Unicorns. Whenever one of their numbers had died, it had been customary for the herd and the pride to lay aside their rivalry, gather together, and mourn their lost one. Somehow— Shadhavar didn't remember how, now— their numbers had dwindled until only one Lion and one Unicorn remained. But Shadhavar and Leferidae had always promised each other that they would continue the ancient tradition. So, much as it pained Shadhavar to confront the fact that his Lion had been killed, he was galloping towards Leferidae to hold vigil for the regeneration of the new Lion.

Old legends said that when the pride and herd began to dwindle, the two Patriarchs had met and worked some Old Magic, to allow them to spontaneously regenerate. Shadhavar didn't know if that was strictly true, but the regeneration bit was fact. He and Leferidae, for example, had regenerated within days of each other. They held all the memories of their respective clans in their blood to be called upon at need, but were at the same time their own being, distinct from all who had come before. So in a sense, Leferidae wasn't lost; he would live on through his descendent. It wasn't the same, but it was something.

Upon reaching the palace, Shadhavar paused, steeling himself for the coming ordeal. How painful would it be, to watch Leferidae's body regenerate into a new form? Would it be easier to lay Lef to rest, when the new Lion developed its own personality? Or would he constantly be mourning his murdered partner, seeing him through the traits of his heir?

Wandering through the palace, which lay quiet in the absence of the King and Queen, Shadhavar halted before Leferidae's doors, which were guarded by Leo, Lef's manservant and guard.

"My lord Marquis," Leo greeted him politely. "The Duke's will stated that we were to refuse anyone admittance to his chambers until you'd come."  
"Thank you," Shadhavar nodded. "If you could ensure me privacy… I'd like some time to say goodbye to him."  
"Of course, my lord," Leo nodded, unlocking the door and standing aside.

With a deep breath, Shadhavar entered his lover's rooms, his hooves sounding unnaturally loud on the parquet floor. Not bothering to light any candles, he crossed through the suite, halting before the bed where Leferidae was laid in state.

Slowly, Shadhavar lowered himself onto the edge of the mattress, taking his partner's paw into his own hoof. Oh, how it hurt to see Lef lying so still; it made his death all the more real.

"Oh Red," he sighed, patting the Lion's paw. "What a mess everything is. How dare you leave me alone to deal with it all."

What now? Mirana, Kalen and Leferidae all dead within hours of each other, apparently all victims of the same form of murder, if the new Queen of Marmoreal was to be believed. Who stood to gain from their deaths? Princess Lily had ascended into Queendom, a role she had never wanted; she couldn't be her parents' murderer. The Red Lands of Crims and Snud fell into shambles without their Guardian, so it made little sense for Queen Lamia or Queen Regina to order Leferidae's death. And while Lef had spent the last several weeks of his life watching and plotting against now-King Jacoby, suspecting that Iracebeth's son had somehow outmaneuvered Queen Regina to claim the throne for himself, did it make any sense for King Jacoby to retaliate?

A thought niggled in the back of Shadhavar's mind; a connection he wasn't quite able to grasp. Putting it aside for now, Shadhavar returned his attention to Leferidae. For a long moment he looked at his lover, committing his face to memory and steeling himself for what was about to happen. Finally, he kissed the Lion's paw, laid it down on the coverlet, and stood.

"Farewell, my dearest Red," he murmured as he stepped back, before speaking the ancient words that would trigger the regeneration. "By Red, by White; by wit, by might; we guard our lands by day and night. By White, by Red, now rest your head; you've fallen asleep, now Lion— rise from your bed!"

A golden glow began emanating from Leferidae's body as Shadhavar chanted, growing brighter with each word until, with a painfully strong flash, his body disappeared, leaving only his clothing behind. Shadhavar leaned in, eyes intent on the little lump burrowing through Leferidae's tunic.

The Cub's head poked out the bottom of the tunic, and Shadhavar got his first look at the new Red Lion.

Or should he say, Lioness. Her delicate features and flatter head proclaimed her gender clearly. Shadhavar raised a curious brow; there hadn't been a Lioness in at least four regenerations. And certainly not one with this coloring. Though her coat was the usual tawny, there was a shock of black hair on the top of her head instead of Leferidae's red mane, and her eyes were similiarly black.

The little Cub crawled out of Leferidae's tunic, looking around curiously. When her gaze fell on Shadhavar, she glared, baring her little teeth in a growl.

"Why are _you_ here?" she snapped.  
Shadhavar blinked, taken aback by the Lioness' attitude. "Do you remember who I am, little Cub?"  
"Yes," she glared. "You're the one that killed my Papa."  
Shadhavar stared. "Excuse me?"  
"You heard me," the Cub snarled. "You murdered my Papa! I hate you!"

She growled at him— a weak echo of Leferidae's once-mighty roar, but it caused enough ruckus for Leo to come racing in.

"What in the red blazes is going on here?" he demanded, looking at the Cub askance.  
"The Unicorn killed my Papa!" she yelled. "Chase him out of town!"  
"This is absurd," Shadhavar protested. "Leo, you've known me all your life, you know I would never have harmed Leferidae! I wasn't even here when it happened!"  
"You'd best come with me, my lord," Leo said, leading him out the door. "My lo- err, my lady," he nodded to the Cub.  
"Leesin," she corrected him. "Now get the Unicorn out of my sight, I never want to see him again."

Reluctantly, Shadhavar withdrew, leaving Leferidae's heiress behind. Once they were in the hall, Leo turned to him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, my lord," he began, but Shadhavar waved him off.  
"It's not your fault, Leo," he said absently. "It's common for Lions to get a little addled during their regenerations. I'll return in a few days, and we'll see if Leesin's memories have settled down. Until then, guard her well. We don't know if the murderer will return once he hears word of her."  
"With my life," Leo promised solemnly.

Nodding, Shadhavar withdrew. He needed to return to Marmoreal, to inform the four Queens of the Lion's regeneration. There was no need to stay… But oh, it was hard to walk away from the Lioness that was all that remained of his Leferidae. To lose his partner, and for said partner's regenerated form to hate him and blame him for Leferidae's murder— what a bitter double blow!

* * *

The White Palace was abuzz with energy as servants rushed to finish preparations for Queen Lily's coronation ball. She had been crowned yesterday, but given that it was also the day the former High Queen and King Consort had been buried, the celebratory ball had been delayed.

The Queen's suite was similarly frenetic; the Court Seamstress and her team were frantically throwing together the Queen's ballgown, a feat made all the more difficult by the fact that the Queen would not, could not stand still. She paced through her chambers, scattering pins and buttons with abandon.

The Queen's fiancé, the King Consort To Be and Queen's Champion, lounged as best he could in a spindly chair not meant for lounging as he watched his Lily's agitated pacing.

"Lil, if you keep that up you're going to crack the floor," Ioan commented.

Her answer was a decidedly rude hand gesture. Despite his current worries, Ioan had to chuckle; that was his delicate, gently-reared Lily…

"Will you at least tell me what you're worrying about?" he tried.  
"Nothing," she replied, picking up her pace. "My parents are dead, we have no idea who's responsible or why or how, exactly; I just inherited a crown I don't want and never have; my siblings are all terrified; I'm afraid for their safety-"  
"Alright," Ioan cut in, standing and grabbing Lily's shoulders to arrest her pacing. "Fine, you have a point. But pacing isn't gonna do anything. Think. What do we need right now?"  
"To protect my siblings," she said immediately.  
"Good," Ioan nodded. "And?"  
"Answers," she replied after a moment. "Who killed my parents, how, and why."  
"Right," Ioan said. "Now what can we do about all that?"  
"I don't know," Lily said irritably. "Why do you think I was pacing?"  
"Breathe, Lily," Ioan coached her, rubbing her arms. "Think. Where is the safest place for your siblings?"  
"Not here," Lily said, clinging to his forearms. "Overseas, probably. Not Jumphasor, an assassin would expect that. But maybe Accor or Schult. But how do we get them there?"  
"I can sneak them out," Ioan volunteered.  
"How?" she asked, but he shook his head.  
"Leave the details to me," he said. "They'll be safely gone within a week, and if you promise to Champion yourself then I'll stay with them until you've caught the murderer. Now, your parents. We need a Doctor to examine their bodies for any traces of poison or whatever, yeah? Hermoditus said he wasn't trained in that sort of thing. So who do we get?"  
"Not Regina's Doctor," Lily objected immediately. "I don't trust him. I think he's the one dosing her with Tea."  
"Fine," Ioan nodded, his jaw tightening as Lily reminded him of one of his biggest problems. "So once I'm Oversea, I'll send you a Doctor. We'll get answers, I promise. And when we know who's responsible, I'll bring you their head."  
"No," Lily shook her head. "Bring them alive. I want to do the beheading myself."  
"Deal," Ioan nodded. "But for now, we have a ball."  
"Brimini," Lily cursed.  
Ioan snickered, clucking his tongue at her. "Some Queen you are. Aren't you supposed to be more refined than that?"  
"I'm no Queen," she retorted. "I'm a Crown Keeper, that's all. I can swear all I want, damnit."

* * *

Regina sat on the edge of her bed, holding herself so tightly she quivered with tension. She knew she needed to stand, to dress herself in the red (of course it was red) ball gown she had brought from Isla Affalin. Jack was expecting her to be ready in fifteen minutes, so they could meet downstairs to enter Lily's ball. But for the life of her, she couldn't move. She sat stone still, gripping the bedsheets in her fists, blankly staring at nothing.

Jack had entered her chambers half an hour ago to claim his husbandly rights, entirely disregarding the fact that she was already half-dressed. She'd had no choice but to lay back, trying to disregard the intense discomfort of her corset cutting off her breath as he had thrusted away over her. Not for the first time, she had wished that her Madness would allow her to fall into darkness. She was painfully aware of his every movement, and the overstimulation was painful. She'd yearned so desperately for Afanen's honey mead; surely the brew would have made this easier for her, as it had the night of their Blessing.

He'd barely looked at her after he finished, roughly yanking her petticoats back down before straightening his clothes. It wasn't until he was at the door that he'd thrown a sentence over his shoulder that had frozen her solid.

"I warned you what would happen if I learned you'd seen your lover again," he'd said casually. "I'll give you his head as a late Blessing present."

He hadn't slammed the door behind him; he hadn't needed to. The words were final enough.

Regina trembled as a cold Chill raced up her spine. She'd doomed Dafydd. She should have known Jack would see them either leave or return to the dance floor yesterday; he saw everything she did. Now Dafydd was going to die, and it was all her fault.

All her fault… She hugged herself tight as Panic clawed its way up through her broken mind to dance with Fear. She had to warn Dafydd. She had to save him. He was the husband of her heart, her chosen King, her Champion and Beloved. It was her fault he was in danger. She had to get word to him somehow. He had to escape out of Crims, somewhere Jack couldn't touch him. He'd already nearly died once because of her; she couldn't let it happen again.

How dare Jack, she seethed, pressing her fists against her temples as Anger burned in her veins. How _dare_ Jack threaten her. She was the Queen of Hearts, the rightful ruler of Crims. Without her, Jack was nothing. How dare he threaten her, or the life of her Champion!

But… She wasn't the rightful ruler, was she? She hissed, clutching her left side as her scar blossomed with Pain. She wasn't Queen in power, only in name. She was nothing but a Mad woman locked in a tower, cut off from the Heart and from her heart. She couldn't save Dafydd; she couldn't even save herself.

She groaned weakly as she shuddered again, more violently. Tea. Where was her Tea? She needed Calm; she was expected downstairs. She couldn't go to the ball like this. She needed to regain control.

Dancing… she was supposed to dance tonight. She had just danced with Dafydd yesterday. Only five days ago she and Dafydd had Blessed themselves; how had everything fallen apart so quickly? She'd been so happy… And now Jack was going to kill Dafydd, and it was all her fault.

Gasping for breath, Regina shot to her feet, rocking drunkenly as her head swam and the world spun dizzily. Tea, she needed Calm… She had to somehow send a warning to Dai… She needed to dress… She needed to dance… She needed to breathe… She needed out of this room… Fates, her head was spinning… Her head was red, her hands were red, why was her left side all wet, had she spilled wine on her corset? She couldn't breathe… Where was Dai?

It was a relief as Darkness rushed up to claim her, and she collapsed into it gratefully.


	3. Pushed and Paralyzed

**Author's Note**: This chapter puzzled me for a long time. It's a ridiculously short chapter (by which I mean it's eight pages in Word, where most of the other chapters in this Book average out at twenty), and it's all about the subplots. Still, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the hell out of this chapter.

**Special Thanks**: As always, thanks to Ranguvar27 for the wonderful beta'ing!

* * *

Usually, when Regina visited Marmoreal, she stayed in the suite that had been reserved for her since her birth. She loved her rooms; she hosted frequent salons and Tea Parties there, surrounded by the hundreds of hats lining the walls, each handmade by Tarrant before her birth.

Alice didn't think she would ever be able to walk into Regina's suite again. Where before, the suite had been a silent mausoleum, a memorial to her lost daughter, now it was sullied by nearly being Regina's grave.

It seemed impossible that it had already been five days since Lily's Queenmaking; equally impossible that it had been only five days. To Alice, it was just one never-ending nightmare, and she sought in vain to wake back up.

She was sure that for as long as she lived, she would never forget the sight of Regina in a crumpled heap on the floor, laying in a pool of blood and watery Tea. Nothing would ever erase the terror of realizing that Regina had no pulse, that she wasn't breathing. She had screamed in horror; loud enough to alert the guards, though not loud enough to wake the dead.

Shuddering, Alice gripped Regina's hand, checking her pulse for the hundredth time that hour. It was still frantic, racing like a bird's. Madam Gwynyth had said there was still a high risk that Regina's heart wouldn't be able to handle the accelerated pulse; that it would give out and fail before too long. Tarrant hadn't taken that news very well; indeed, Alice rather thought that if she hadn't grabbed him, he would have attacked Gwynyth in his rage. Alice had sent him from Regina's rooms after that, but she couldn't disagree with his sentiment. She would not accept a death sentence; Regina had to survive.

A violent, jerky shudder from Regina pulled Alice from her thoughts. Steeling her jaw, she refocused her attention on her daughter as what seemed like every pore in Regina's body began weeping more of that ghastly poison. Without releasing Regina's hand, Alice reached for the sponge, dabbing Regina's skin clean as best she could.

It was simply astounding, how much Tea was leaching out of Regina's body. Astounding, and terrifying. According to Gwynyth, someone must have been dosing Regina for months in order to reach these toxicity levels. Tea Sickness, it was called; when a person had ingested so much of the medicine that the body could no longer process the fake emotions, and began purging the poison. It was a painful, dangerous process; if Regina's own emotions couldn't be mastered, the emotional meltdown could kill her.

Alice shivered as she stroked her daughter's brow. Fates, she was so cold. Five days, and Regina was still in the grips of the Chill. She lay as stiffly as a block of ice; half the time, the water Alice sponged onto her skin to wash away the Tea turned to ice, clinging to her too-pale flesh and hair, now liberally strewn with streaks of white-blond.

Tea Sickness… Chill… Madness… A racing, over-burdened heart… The scar on her side opening and nearly bleeding out… It was a perfect storm of bad situations combining to kill her daughter.

Gwynyth couldn't even reassure Alice that things would be better when Regina awoke. They had no idea how she might have been affected by all these illnesses attacking at once. Regina might have been broken. She might wake up and be completely, irrevocably Mad. Or she might never wake up; she might remain in this comatose state forever, or she might slip away into Death's embrace. There was no way to tell… and nothing Alice could do to determine events. Nothing she did could persuade the Fates to allow this or that outcome; she was utterly helpless.

What was the point in being the Once and Always Champion if she couldn't fight the most important battle of her life?

Setting down the sponge, Alice stood and began stripping the sheets from the bed, tenderly wrapping Regina's nude body in a blanket. The servants were constantly washing linens to prevent them being stained by the hateful medicines. Regina couldn't be left to lie on Tea-soaked sheets; she'd only reabsorb the poison. They couldn't even properly bandage her scar, for fear that the wound might leach Tea which a bandage would absorb and redistribute into her system.

Fates, there was so much Tea. Five days of nonstop purging, and it still wasn't gone. Gwynyth had identified Doubt, Fear, Guilt, Anxiety, Confusion, Lust, Confidence, and Calm; a deadly cocktail. Someone had been trying to keep Regina incapacitated, and they had done a horrifyingly good job. What had been their purpose? Who stood to profit from destroying Regina? And what would happen, if their scheme succeeded and Regina succumbed to this attack?

Alice glanced over her shoulder as the door opened, exchanging a worried look with Gwynyth before the Healer crossed to her son's bed, smoothing a hand over his forehead.

"She started leaching again?" Gwynyth asked.  
Alice nodded. "How's his shoulder?"  
"No change," Gwynyth said grimly.

Alice winced in sympathy. Five days ago, Dafydd had been visiting Gwynyth at her apothecary shop in Hatsfield, when he had suddenly collapsed to the floor, crying out and clutching his shoulder before passing out in a pool of blood. When Gwyn had pried Dafydd's hand away, she'd found broken, jagged glass-like shards protruding from his flesh— the mangled remains of a broken heart. Knowing that Regina was the only possible cure, Gwyn had risked traveling with her son's body to Marmoreal. Upon learning the state Regina was in, Gwynyth had vowed to nurse her back to health, so that Regina could save Dafydd's life.

So here they lay, side by side in their beds, both dying by degrees. Once in Regina's presence, Dafydd's shoulder had stopped bleeding, and he'd entered this catatonic state. Regina's heart, in turn, had finally responded to Healer Hermoditus' attempts at resuscitation, and began to beat again— hard and fast enough to keep them both alive.

Gwynyth sighed as she straightened from Dafydd's side. "I can't decide if this heart-bond of theirs is a miracle, or the cruelest fate I've ever heard of."

Alice couldn't agree more.

Heart-bonds were exceedingly rare phenomena, known mostly through old legends. They were said to be Underland's gift to ill-fated lovers; a way to be together even when life pulled them apart. The lovers' hearts would beat in time, and they would be able to feel each others' emotions. And when one died, the other would follow, so that they would never be separated.

On the one hand, the heart-bond was saving Dafydd's life right now. As long as Regina's heart beat, it would keep Dafydd alive. And because her heart was beating for two, it gave his heart a chance to repair itself and heal from the debilitating Heartbreak.

Also, it was incredibly sweet, in a very sad way, that they'd been heart-bonded. They'd loved each other for so long, but there had been so many obstacles in their way. And now Regina was married to Jack, and would never be free. It seemed only right that she be heart-bonded to the man she truly loved.

But at the same time, the heart-bond made their separate life-threatening conditions all the more dangerous. If one of them succumbed, both would perish. As a matter of fact, Gwynyth was positive that was why they were all here; either Dafydd's heart had finally broken and his collapse had triggered Regina's, or vice versa.

And there was nothing Alice could do to influence the future one way or the other. All she could do was hold her baby's freezing cold hand, and beg the Spirit of Underland to be merciful.

* * *

Upon her Queenmaking, Regina had instituted a weekly Tea Party to all the members of her Court. It wasn't a mandatory event, but it was a chance to socialize, to see and be seen. And while no official business was conducted, it was a chance for the Nobles to conduct their own form of politics, currying favors and plotting alliances among their ranks.

Mary Contrary, Duchess of Tearnan Og, was usually found at table with Queen Regina. As Regina's Mistress of the Household and most trusted friend, Mary was most often at Regina's side, to entertain and advise as needed.

Today was not a normal day.

It had been six days since Lily Palladia's Queenmaking. But Regina was not yet home from Marmoreal; in fact, the Queen had sent no word since leaving Crims. King Jacoby had returned home two days after the Queenmaking, his wife conspicuously absent. He had brushed aside the Courtiers' questions with a brusque explanation that there was to be a Meeting of the Deck, and Regina had elected to remain in the White City until it was over. That had seemed to satisfy most of the Nobles.

Mary was not one of them.

Poor Jack. It really wasn't his fault; how could he know that Mary was in contact with Rhys Hightopp, that she was fully aware that Regina had collapsed on the eve of Lily's Queenmaking ball in a puddle of blood and Tea? Rhys had informed Mary that Regina's heart had stopped beating— that for a time, she had technically been dead. As far as Mary knew, Regina hadn't woken yet; she might still succumb to Death's charms.

Mary was positive that it was all Jack's fault. After all, Jack was the reason Regina had gone Mad; it wouldn't surprise Mary at all if Jack had tried to kill Regina, to take the throne for himself permanently. It was rather admirable actually, that he was so dedicated and determined to utterly destroy the queendom.

The question now was, what to do about it?

Open warfare would probably be suicide. Jack's position at Court was ironclad; his star had never burned brighter. To challenge him now, with no proof of her accusations and no support, was a surefire method of ensuring she quietly disappeared, just as any who spoke in favor of Regina vanished. As influential as Mary was, she wasn't much good to Gigi dead.

So it would have to be subterfuge. That would be quite exciting; she enjoyed being sneaky. Her father had been quite good at it, before Iracebeth relieved him of his head. How brilliant that she and Jack could continue their parents' battle.

But what resources did she have at her disposal? Jack held the throne, and the Heart… What did she have?

As Mary glanced around, she wrinkled her nose. Good galumphing griffons, what on earth was Lady Chatteron wearing?

And then it hit her.

"Lady Chatteron!" she yoo-hooed. "Come share a cup with me."

Mary grinned to herself as Lady Chatteron swished her way over to the table, settling herself in her seat with a great deal of fussing over her ruffles and ribbons.

"Good afternoon, Lady Contrary," Chatteron simpered. "It's been a long time since we sat down to tea together."  
"Oh, not so long," Mary countered, pouring their tea. "A few months only. But I am sorry it's been a while. You must catch me up on all the Court gossip."  
"How am I supposed to do that?" Chatteron scoffed. "Nobody ever tells me anything."

Mary grinned into her teacup. Despite her protestations, the only person who had a better grasp of the temperament and mood swings of the Court than Lady Chatteron was Mary herself.

"I had heard, though, that Baron Waddlen took umbrage with some of the improvements to the castle," Chatteron confided, snapping her fan open and fluttering it about her long face.  
"Improvements? My word, these aren't improvements!" Mary exclaimed as she handed Chatteron her cup. "All the lovely gardens gone! Our rooms altered overnight! You know that absolutely hideous looking glass of mine, been in my family for ages? Disappeared! It's lovely! Of course, it is fantastic not to wear such heavy skirts," Mary added, glancing at the knee-length hem of her dress. "But the _color_! Can you imagine Regina and me trying to pull off red? With _our_ hair?"  
"Oh you poor dear," Chatteron sighed. "Yes, it must be quite difficult for you."  
"It's divine," Mary stated. "But you know what I find fascinating? How King Jack's gotten rid of people."  
"I've heard whispers that he wants to banish the Duke of Annwyn," Chatteron frowned. "Do you think the King believes those rumors about the Duke and Queen's affair?"  
"Probably, since everyone seems to believe the rumors to be fact," Mary nodded in agreement. "Though I suppose a King doesn't need a reason. Now of course, I never liked the Duke much myself. Always lurking in the shadows, he made me so nervous! But he was so devoted to Regina," she mused, silently apologizing to Dafydd for the lies she was telling.  
"Poor Majesty, she's seemed quite out of her depth since the Joust," Chatteron frowned.  
"I know," Mary nodded sadly. "Of course, who can blame her, when she's being poisoned."  
"Poison!" Chatteron gasped, snapping her fan shut.  
"Yes, didn't you know?" Mary smiled. "King Jack's been poisoning Regina with Emotion Teas, isn't that clever?"  
"My dear Duchess, are you quite sure?" Chatteron pressed.  
"Absolutely positive. I've seen him do it myself," Mary fibbed, nodding grandly. "You must admit, it's devilishly clever. It's gotten him everything he wanted. He has a crown, his rival's disappeared, his Queen's under his control…"  
"What do you mean, the Queen is under his control?" Chatteron asked, leaning in, fascinated.  
"Why, don't you see?" Mary asked, feigning surprise. "He had to keep her docile somehow, or she'd have stopped him from destroying Crims. You didn't think she approved of what he's done to us?"  
"I… no, I don't suppose I did," Chatteron admitted.  
"Well, never mind it now," Mary said merrily. "We're all about to lose our heads, so what does it matter? Come, try the deviled eggs and tell me what on _earth_ made Lady Longeare believe she had a head for hats."

As Lady Chatteron launched into the juiciest tidbits of Court gossip, Mary smiled to herself. The rumor of Regina being poisoned with Tea would be common knowledge around the Court by tonight, and would be traveling through the country by tomorrow. Depending on what Jack did in response, Mary could begin the chess game with him, and defeat him from the inside out.

She enjoyed fostering this little revolution. She would call it the Royal Flush; that had a nice ring to it…

* * *

It had been a good morning.

With Regina gone from the palace, Afanen hadn't had to visit the Mad Queen in her tower. Which was wonderful; it was incredibly unsettling to have to deal with her Madness. And Jack kept himself busy ruling, so she hadn't even had to accommodate him. She had all the perks of being a royal mistress— power, protection, position— and none of the hassle.

The day had taken a decided nosedive for the worse when Rhys had arrested her.

At least he'd had the decency to do it quietly, which was more than she might have expected from one of her oafish clansmen. She'd been in the bath when the knock on the door came. Assuming it was Jack coming for a little fun before going to his office, she hadn't bothered dressing; she'd just gotten out of the tub while her maid answered the door.

She'd been a little surprised to hear a male voice that wasn't Jack's, but she still hadn't been alarmed. Though she was Jack's mistress, she did occasionally bestow her favors on other Nobles in the Court. If one of them had been bold enough to come to her door in broad daylight, she might chastise him for foolishness, but she was willing to dally. So imagine her surprise to see not one of her many admirers, but her clansman standing in her sitting room.

Rhys had been more flustered about Afanen's nudity than she had been. She couldn't suppress her amusement; Rhys had always been awkward around females.

"What do you want, Rhys?" she'd purred, lazily sashaying away from him toward her privacy shield.  
"I'm placing you under arrest."

She had paused for a moment, then laughed, tying a robe around herself while walking back out to face Rhys and his two Albion lackeys.

"Excuse me?" she asked.  
"Afanen Hightopp, you are hereby under arrest for poisoning Queen Regina with Emotion Teas," Rhys formally replied, reading off a scroll. "If you agree to come quietly, we won't cause you an embarrassing scene."  
"Are you Mad?" she'd asked scornfully. "I am the Queen's Lady of Honor, protected by the King-"  
"The King is the one who ordered the arrest," Rhys had interrupted, holding up the scroll so she could see Jack's signature and seal. "Take her away," he'd commanded his men.

She had been too stunned to resist, or to have the presence of mind to demand that she be allowed to properly dress. The guards had been gentle, as Rhys promised, but they'd led her straight to the dungeons with no further explanations.

Afanen didn't know what to think. What on earth was this ridiculous arrest about? While she had fed Regina the Teas, she hadn't mixed them; Jack had been adamant that there be no trace of evidence pointing to her involvement. So what was Jack doing, pinning this on her?

Frustrated, Afanen stood, wrapping her robe more tightly around herself and folding her hands behind her back as she paced the length of her cell. She was surprised that Isla Affalin had dungeons; didn't that go against Regina's White Vow? Then again, Dafydd had helped design the castle; this must have been his doing. It wasn't so bad, really. The dungeons were underground, so they were dark and chill, but they were clean and dry. The cell was small and the air was stale, but she wasn't manacled to a wall. She was bored out of her skull, but she wasn't uncomfortable.

Afanen kept pacing, a frown firmly affixed to her face. What was she doing here? Why had Jack ordered her arrested?

Putting her down here got her out of the way, obviously. But why did he need her out of the way? Was there a part to his grand plan that she needed an alibi for? What even _was_ his plan? She'd been so busy with her part in Regina's demise that she hadn't even thought of Jack's greater objectives.

He'd returned to Underland, and retaken his throne from Regina. He'd solidified his power and gotten himself named acting King… What came next?

Glancing around her cell, an answer slowly dawned on her. _You are hereby under arrest for poisoning Queen Regina with Emotion Tea_. Jack had ordered Regina to be incapacitated with Tea. She had long ago fallen Mad; she'd been swept out of the way. And now Jack was pinning the blame on Afanen— disposing of her just as easily.

But no, Afanen argued with herself. There was no proof that she was involved; Jack had ordered it to be that way. How could she be arrested when there was no proof linking her to the crime?

No, Jack must be playing some other game, she assured herself as she sat on her cot again. She just had to wait until he was ready to show her his hand.

* * *

"No!" Afanen snarled, struggling against the Albion as they dragged her towards the door. "No, I'm innocent! I'm being framed! _Jack_!"

Jack managed to keep his poker face as the door slammed shut after her, ending her sentencing procedure. Turning back to Rhys and the remainder of his guards, and the cluster of Nobles crowding the Throne Room, he raised his eyebrows.

"I think this is all rather conclusive, don't you?" he asked, nodding down at the pile of evidence they'd found.

Chests filled with bottles of Tea. Books on Tea-making and their effects in food and drink. Recipes and notes in Afanen's hand about the Teas' effects on Regina. And, most damning, a selection of Regina's teacups, all of which tested positive for Tea— and the handkerchief that had been used to prepare them all.

Rhys nodded in agreement. "Aye, m'lord. This is enough proof of her guilt."  
"Destroy all of this. And Afanen will remain under arrest in the dungeon for the time being, while I consult the books of law to determine an appropriate punishment for her crime," Jack announced. "She is forthwith stripped of her title and rank. Her property reverts to the Crown. I shall travel there forthwith. Prepare my carriage."

As he strode from the suite, Jack allowed himself a brief, satisfied smile. Well, he'd managed that rather handily.

When rumors had started circulating three days ago that Regina had been Tea-poisoned, Jack had admittedly been worried. He was already walking a dangerous line, with Regina possibly dying in Marmoreal. Once the Healers had gotten to her, the game was up; all of Underland would know of her condition before long. Jack had needed to act quickly to save the situation, and to prevent suspicion from being cast on him.

He had thought at first to frame the Doctor, but Vulpez had stayed his hand, pointing out that they didn't know what sort of state Regina was in, but that they'd surely need the Doctor's skill to deal with her once she returned to Crims.

"But Afanen?" Vulpez had shrugged. "You said yourself that she was outgrowing her usefulness. Better to dispose of an unneeded tool than risk it malfunctioning on you."

The man had a point. And it had been beyond easy to plant evidence in Afanen's quarters, though it was a stroke of pure luck that Afanen had been keeping notes about Regina's condition. Really, with Afanen so thoughtfully providing the rope, wouldn't it be rude of Jack not use it to hang her?

Now, with Afanen out of the way and her estate in his hands, Jack was free to go there and make sure his tracks were covered from any of the… unpleasantness… that had been plaguing Underland lately.

Yes, Jack decided. Everything was going quite well.


	4. Time is Wasting

**Author's Note**: So in contrast to the last chapter, which was unusually short, this one is enormously long. Apologies for that, dear readers; I had an awful lot of subplots to advance, to say nothing of the main plot, otherwise known as The Continguing Saga of the Epic Dafydd Versus Jack Pissing Match. Pro tip, folks: stubborn, ridiculous Outlanders and heartless, impossible Princelings do not mix well. Go figure.

Please see the end of the chapter for additional notes and disclaimers.

**Original Character Play-By**: Aynville Hammersun is portrayed by Michael Clarke Duncan.

**Chapter Warnings**: There are several potentially triggering things in this chapter, including onscreen character death, implied sex (not quite dub con this time, but still ill-advised), a depiction of drug addiction and craving, and allusion to "enhanced interrogation techniques." Nothing is graphically depicted, but it is there. Please be mindful of your triggers and squick.

**Special Thanks**: I think my lovely beta Ranguvar27 channeled the audience's reactions best with the comment, "I hope Jack gets his comeuppance soon."

* * *

The house of the now-former Duchess of Tearnan Beo had proved itself quite useful as a base of operations, Jack reflected to himself as his carriage rumbled through the gate. Using Afanen's interest in Teapothecary as a front to purchase the ingredients needed to poison Regina… Harboring Blancmilque… The center of Jack's spy network… So many delicious pies to have his fingers in! Or perhaps tarts. He had always been very fond of tarts…

It was quite convenient that the property of disgraced Nobles reverted to the Crown. It allowed Jack to maintain his activities without observation by unfriendly parties, while also being able to ensure that any incriminating evidence was destroyed. He did so hate to leave loose threads dangling.

"Duff!" he called as he opened the carriage.  
"M'lord," the Captain said as he approached.  
"Rip this place apart," he commanded. "Any evidence you find of Afanen's crimes, box up and bring to the palace."  
"Sire," Duff bowed.

Good man, Duff, Jack reflected to himself. Quiet, didn't ask questions, efficient. Handy man to have.

Behind Jack's back, Rhys glanced towards the kitchen, catching the eye of the pretty young scullery maid. A look, a nod, and the maid disappeared. Lyrica was a good informant; she'd been keeping the Resistance apprised of the doings within Afanen's holdings for weeks now. Thanks to her, the Resistance would know about the shipment of evidence within a few hours. Their agents would ensure that the evidence would be rescued before Jack destroyed it— or worse yet, used it on Regina.

Granted, exactly what the Resistance hoped to accomplish with Regina laying in a helpless coma in Marmoreal, Rhys didn't know. If the rightful Queen were to die— or Fates forbid, be incurably Mad when she awoke— what where they even fighting for? They had no alternative to place on the throne; if Regina was unable to rule, theirs was a stillborn rebellion.

But, Rhys reminded himself, there was no point in worrying now. Unless word came from Marmoreal, the Resistance had to behave as though Regina's reinstatement as Queen were imminent.

Shaking his head, Rhys opened the door to his left, walking into a small study. Whistling to himself, he perused the shelves, looking for any of Jack's supposed "evidence."

"Gah," he hissed, jerking his hand off the shelf as his skin burned. "What the-"

Frowning, he gingerly pulled the book— a biography of Mirana and Kalen— off the shelf. The pages and spine were damp with some oily substance; a cautious swipe refreshed the burning sensation on his fingers.

"What is this?" he muttered, covering his hand in his cloak before cracking the cover.

The book proved to have a hollow core. A vaporous cloud rose into the air, making Rhys' eyes water and his lungs burn. Drawing his cloak over his nose and mouth, he held the book at arms' length and glanced inside the secret compartment.

The book contained three small glass vials, each marked with a letter— M, K, L. A grainy residue clung to the walls of the vials, and one still contained a small measure of potion. One of the vials was uncorked; Rhys supposed that this was how the book had come to be covered with the burning substance.

Whatever this was, it wasn't tea.

Glancing at the book again, Rhys realized there was a small scrap of parchment affixed to the page. It was half-burned away and the ink was running, but by tilting the book a little closer, he could make out scraps.

_Once inges-… poison… death in six -rs… Queen's… windo-… escape…_

Rhys' eyes widened in shock. Poison… death in six hours… Queen's window… M K L…

"Alog muck a brimini," he muttered.

Slamming the book shut, Rhys shoved it into his bag, trying to maintain his cool in the face of this revelation. If this was what Rhys suspected, and if it was in Afanen's possession on Jack's orders… the Resistance's problems were much greater than usurpation and subjugation. If this was true evidence, then Regina's very life was in danger.

He needed to get this to Ioan, and to the Hatter.

* * *

"An excellent repast," Jack said with a satisfied sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

It had been a most productive afternoon, as far as Jack was concerned. Everything that could be considered evidence had been boxed up, and was on its way to Isla Affalin. Rhys and the rest of the Albion were dismissed for the evening; only Duff stood in the dining room as Jack and Blancmilque consumed their supper. Jack was in a fine mood tonight; everything was going exactly to plan.

"I'm glad you liked it, Sire," Blancmilque said, leaning over to refill Jack's wine glass. "Despite Cook's unfortunate overuse of pepper, she does cook a monstrously good borogrove steak."  
"Indeed," Jack agreed. "I really must offer her a raise."

For a long moment they enjoyed a peaceful silence, as Jack savored his wine and Blancmilque tucked into his sugared violet pudding. Then Jack glanced at the older man, a thoughtful look on his face.

"I appreciate the loyalty you've shown me, Blancmilque," he said. "Lesser men would resent having to hide away after performing such good deeds."  
Blancmilque inclined his snowy head. "I admit it hasn't been easy these past two weeks, languishing in the country while you and Vulpez had all the fun. But of course I only ever serve you, Majesty."  
"And I will never forget it," Jack said, swirling the wine in his glass. "But I must ask one more favor of you, my friend."  
"Name it and consider it done," Blancmilque promised.  
Jack smiled mildly. "To die."

On that cue, Duff lunged forward, catching Blancmilque in a stranglehold, covering his nose and mouth so there could be no betraying noise. Throughout the gruesome performance, Jack remained still, holding Blancmilque's gaze until the Marmorean Duke no longer saw him. Nodding in satisfaction, Jack stood, swallowing the rest of his wine in a long gulp.

"The fish pond out back should do," he commanded Duff. "We can leave tomorrow morning."

As he walked away from the table, Jack smiled. That wrapped up almost all the loose ends. When he got home, he just needed to implement the final stage of his plan, and deal with his bride. Then all would be complete.

* * *

Well, Jack grumped to himself, this was a problem.

He and the Albion had departed Tearnan Beo in the midmorning. The journey had gone smoothly until the carriage axle broke outside the trade city of Gummer Slough. Duff had found a smith in short order, who'd inspected the axle and declared it would take at least until morning to repair it. Jack had protested, but there'd been nothing for it. So he had gone to the tavern for food while Duff secured accommodations.

He hadn't noticed the townsfolk's hostility, at first. He wasn't like Regina, who inspired their subjects' devotion wherever she went. When they cheered for him, it was because of her. But the longer Jack sat there, the more aware he became of the sidelong glances, the sharp, fearful whispers. But even this he didn't mind; after all, it was better to be feared than loved.

But when a rock hit him in the head as he walked down the street? That he minded.

Whirling around, he found the culprit— a raggedy, filthy little street urchin.

"How dare you?" he fumed, storming over to the ragamuffin. "Do you know who I am? I am your King!"  
"Are not neither," the boy scoffed. "My da said yer naught but the usurper wot's married to our Queen."  
"He dares!" Jack glared, grabbing the boy and shaking him. "Who is your father, urchin?"  
"Sam the Cartwright, he is," the boy said defiantly, trying to kick his way out of Jack's grasp. "An' it's wot we all say. Down with the Bloody Usurper! Long live the Queen an' her Carpenter!"  
Jack reared up. "You insolent little-!" But he paused before landing the blow, his eyes narrowing. "Who is this Carpenter?"  
"Him as who'll take you apart an' rebuild our land," the boy replied proudly. "He'll release our Queen from her tower, an' she'll make him King."  
Jack's eyes narrowed further, and he roughly shoved the boy away. "Get out of my sight," he snapped.

As the urchin scurried off, Jack strode towards the inn. So someone was spreading rumors that some Carpenter was going to dethrone him, restore Regina to power before she made him her King? Someone was rumoring that he was a usurper?

Well, he couldn't take an insult like that lying down, now could he?

"Duff!" he snapped. "Ride to Annwyn. I want a report of Dafydd's doings since he left the palace."

If Duff thought that a strange command, he kept it to himself. Brushing past him, Jack headed for his room, struggling to contain his anger. Acting in anger would not benefit him; he needed a calm head. Duff would tell him what Dafydd had been up to lately. And if there was a whiff of a chance that the Outlander was causing mischief… Well, he had already promised Regina her lover's head, hadn't he? He was a man of his word.

* * *

His first conscious sensation was pain. His chest ached, the pain radiating from his Fates-forsaken left shoulder. Suppressing a groan, he struggled to open his eyes, which came rather easier than he'd expected, considering how groggy he felt.

What had happened? He had been in his mathair's kitchen, leaning against the island counter while she prepared them supper. And then… There had been an unbearably sharp pain in his heart, all the air had rushed out of his lungs… Then nothing. Had he collapsed? Was he dead? But hadn't he told Underland that when he died he wanted to become part of the Song of the Brae? This room most assuredly was not the Brae… Had his request been denied? Or was he, perhaps, not quite dead yet?

Carefully, he hitched himself up on his good elbow, frowning in confusion when the movement didn't aggravate his bad shoulder. In fact, the pain seemed to be dulling, lessening for the first time in weeks. He didn't know what to make of that. Shaking it off, he took in his surroundings.

He was clearly not in Gwynyth's house anymore; this was a palatial suite. Regina's palatial suite in Marmoreal, he realized with a shock, recognizing the dozens of hats covering the walls. How in the names of all the Hightopp ancestors had he gotten here?

As his gaze continued its circuit around the room, his eyes fell upon the occupant in the other bed… and in an instant he was rolling out of his bed and lunging for her.

"Gia," Dafydd whispered, sinking onto her mattress and staring at her.

She was as pale as he had ever seen her, her hair liberally streaked with white. She looked unbearably fragile, like a single touch would break her. She laid utterly still, her chest barely rising and falling. For some reason, she appeared to be naked beneath the covers. Numbly, Dafydd took her hand, not surprised to find her cold and stiff as ice.

Od's Breech, what in all the worlds had happened to her this time? What had caused such a severe attack of the Chill?

"Gia," he said again, stroking her face. "Wake up, ma taavi."

He huffed in frustration as she stubbornly refused to comply with his request. When she woke up, he was going to Have Words with her…

He looked up when the door opened, a little surprised to see his mother walking in, her arms laden with a heavily loaded tray. When she realized he was sitting up, she stared, before setting the tray down on the bedside table with a sharp _clank_.

"Just what do you think you're doing out of bed, young man?" she hissed, marching over to the bed. "You lay back down this instant, before you aggravate that heart again."  
Dafydd rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, Mathair."  
"Clearly you haven't looked in a mirror yet," Gwyn retorted tartly, folding her arms. "If you overexert yourself, I will drag you over my knee and spank you until you can't sit for a week. And it won't be doing your Regina any favors, either."  
Dafydd frowned. "What do you mean?"  
"You've been heart-bonded, the pair of you," she explained, poking him in the shoulder and giving a satisfied smirk when he hissed at the mild pain. "What happens to you, happens to her. If you damage your heart, you damage hers as well. And her heart has already been working overtime for days to keep you alive. She needs her rest, so don't you make it more difficult for her."

Dafydd swallowed hard, staring down at Regina in shock. Though he'd never heard of a heart-bond before, it sounded serious, and the fact that her heart had somehow miraculously saved his was enough to convince him to lay down— on her bed, not his. Gwynyth rolled her eyes, but offered no objection, instead turning her attention to Regina. Dafydd watched as Gwynyth checked Regina's pulse and temperature, then turned to her tray, mixing the contents of several vials together into a potion which she then swiped over Regina's pulse points.

"Why are you doing this for her?" Dafydd asked. "I thought you didn't like her."  
Gwynyth shot him a dry Look. "She saved my son's life. She is also heart-bonded to my son. I figure that makes her family, and either way I owe her this."

Well, he couldn't fault that logic.

"How long has she been like this?" he asked, looking down at Regina.  
"Ten days now," Gwyn replied, gently laying a warm washcloth doused with medicine over Regina's brow. "The first few days, when she was purging the Tea, she was thrashing and whimpering. Now she's almost peaceful."

Dafydd's brow furrowed in pain, and he brought Regina's hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Gwynyth watched quietly, her heart wrenching to see the self-blame written all over his face.

"You must not blame yourself," she said softly. "This isn't your fault."  
"Yes it is," he replied dully. "I shouldn't have lost that Joust. I should've stayed with her-"  
"Hush now," she silenced him. "You were drugged. It was a dirty trick, and it almost killed you, and it wasn't your fault. And haven't you been defending her people? Creating a Rebellion for her? That doesn't sound like a failed Champion to me. Suicidally stupid to be doing it all with a broken heart, yes," she said, giving him another hard Look. "But not a failure."

Dafydd had the grace to look guilty when she called him stupid, but he was obviously unrepentant. Gwynyth rolled her eyes, smoothing a motherly hand over his curls. Dafydd looked down at his wife again, taking in every nuance of her condition, before looking up at Gwynyth again.

"What happened to her?" he asked softly.  
"The Tea poisoning you knew about," she said. "From what we can tell, she experienced an attack of the Chill the night of the Adam- Lily's Queenmaking," she corrected herself, pretending not to notice as Dafydd's eyebrows rose in surprise at her uncharacteristic gentle speech of Lily. "The anxiety must have burst her scar open. Look at this," she said.

She pulled back the blankets, revealing that yes indeed, Regina was naked as a newborn babe. Dafydd forced himself to look at the hated scar, and found that it was an ugly, angry red-purple, and looked as fresh as though she'd gotten it yesterday. His eyes wandered before he could help himself, fixating on faded, yellowish circular bruises on her hip. Almost as if… Before he could complete the thought, Gwynyth tucked Regina back in, shaking her head.

"And then on top of everything else she started leaching out the Tea. Tea Sickness," she finished, rubbing a weary hand over her forehead.  
Dafydd nodded slowly, his grip on Regina's hand tightening. "People have died of Tea Sickness, haven't they," he said, dread lacing his voice.

She knew where he was going with this. And she didn't want him thinking along those lines. He had to remain positive; otherwise he would lose his mind to despair and fear, and that wouldn't help Regina at all. Regina was as dependent upon Dafydd as he was on her; if he couldn't control his moods, it endangered Regina's chances of recovering from the Tea Sickness. But she couldn't lie to him; Tea Sickness was incredibly dangerous, and it was possible…

"Yes," she admitted gently. "People have died of it, if they couldn't summon the will to fight."  
Dafydd's face crumpled, his eyes dark with pain. "Mathair-"  
"Don't even think it," she said firmly. "Your Regina's a fighter. You won't lose her to this."

That said, Gwynyth pressed a kiss to the top of Dafydd's head before standing and exiting the room, shutting the door behind her. Dafydd quirked an eyebrow; it was almost like his mathair was encouraging him to misbehave. Granted, he was pretty sure that he wasn't up for mischief, he admitted to himself ruefully; he felt about as weak as a newborn.

Sighing, he returned his attention to Regina, shifting so he lay beside her. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but fear of disturbing Gwynyth's medicines stayed his hand. Worry creased his brow as he looked at her; Fates, he had come so close to losing her. What if she died? What if she simply wasn't strong enough to fight so many things going wrong at once? Swallowing hard, he rested his forehead against her temple, squeezing his eyes shut as he whispered in her ear.

"Don't leave me, dearbadan-de," he begged her. "Come back to me."

He felt, rather than heard, the shift in her breathing. As if his awareness was blending with hers, he could sense her awareness beginning to push through the blackness of unconsciousness. Hardly daring to breathe, he leaned closer to her, stroking her damp hair.

"I'm here, cariad," he whispered. "Open your eyes."  
"Dai?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

His heart leapt into his throat at the sound of her voice; so weak and faint, but there. Swallowing hard, he continued stroking her face and neck, coaxing her awake.

He broke into a relieved smile as her eyes fluttered open. But then he needed to fight back a flinch; Fates, she looked unwell. Her face was as pale as Tarrant's, with dark shadows beneath her red-rimmed eyes. The corners of her eyes and her forehead were stained with the Teas she'd been expelling, and she was horribly cold to the touch. And her eyes... her beautiful eyes were clouded and dull, glazed over, as Tea addicts' eyes often were. Beneath that though, her Hightopp eyes were a kaleidoscopic swirl of colors; so many that it made Dafydd a bit queasy to look. And yet, she was still utterly and completely beautiful. By the Aliblay, he'd missed her. For a moment, her eyes cleared, and for the first time in weeks he saw _his_ Regina, free of her Madness. But then the hateful silvery white began to overtake the green, and her body temperature plunged as she began to shiver with Fear.

"Ye cannae be haur," she whispered, feebly trying to push him away. "If Jack finds ye…"  
"Shh," he quieted her, leaning over her and easily holding her still. "He's not here, myfanwy. We're safe."

He frowned when he felt her stiffen in his arms. She was watching him, her eyes fearful and wary, as though… As if his closeness put her on edge. His mind wandered back to the faded bruises on her hips, and a horrible suspicion started to grow in his mind. Testing his new theory, he released her and sat back up. Sure enough, her tension melted away, and she relaxed into the pillows.

He was going to kill Jack. He'd known the bastard wouldn't take any care of Regina…

"He told me he was going to kill you," she said, her voice low as she stared at the ring Jack had put on her finger. "That he'd give me your head for a Blessing present."  
Despite his anger, Dafydd scoffed. "As if he could."  
She looked up at him, traces of the Chill still in her eyes. "He nearly did, once," she pointed out.  
He waved that off. "I'm still here, aren't I?"  
"Why are you here?" she asked, looking back up.  
He raised his eyebrows. "Was that a serious question?"

She didn't need to know about the Heartbreak, he decided. It would only make her worry, and she needed as little stress as possible while she healed. He hadn't missed the fact that she was speaking in her own voice, not in the harsh Outlandish brogue of Madness. He aimed to keep her sane, and calm, and if that meant keeping a few unimportant facts from her, then so be it.

Slowly, she nodded. "I… Everything's so fuzzy," she complained, frowning and rubbing her temples. "But didn't I send you away?"  
"I knew you didn't mean it," he said airily.

But when her expression didn't alter, he turned serious, catching her hands in his as he rested his forehead against hers.

"You're my wife, Gia," he said softly. "I'll fight for you until my last breath, and then I'll fight Death to get back to you."

He felt her shudder, and then she flung her arms around him, crashing her lips on his. He responded instantly, cradling her as close as possible.

It took him a moment to realize that she was sobbing, gasping for breaths that didn't fill her lungs as she shook too hard for tears. Alarmed, he pulled back, only for her to grab him again. He grunted, reeling as a wave of emotions flooded his veins— fear and sorrow mingling with love and joy in a shot of feelings so potent it felt like lightning. He gasped, foundering; Od's Breech, this heart-bond was going to be the death of him. Dimly, he clutched Regina, trying to focus on her to anchor him through this wave of emotion.

"Gia, you need to breathe," he said faintly.  
"C-Can't," she gasped, wheezing.  
"You can," he said, catching her hand and pressing it to his heart. "Breathe with my pulse. In four, out four."

He kept coaching her, helping her keep count and regulate her breathing. As she calmed down, so did he, until both were quiet again.

"Better?" he asked, satisfied when she nodded.

Gently, he guided her back down, lying beside her. For a moment she tensed again, but before he could move she turned, burying her face in his shoulder and curling into his side.

"Don't leave," she whispered.  
"I promise," he replied.

The sigh she released seemed to come from the depths of her soul, and spoke of the pain their separation had caused her. He couldn't agree with her more.

And he had no idea how to promise her that it would get better. Yes, he was no longer dying, and she seemed to have broken the hold of her Madness, if not her Tea dependency. But she was still Bound to Jack; that situation couldn't be altered. So what could they do? How long did they have until they were separated again, perhaps forever?

To distract himself from those depressing thoughts, he tilted her chin up, gently placing his lips on hers.

Well, that was a mistake. It took only an instant for the kiss to turn from loving to passionate. Their limbs tangled as they locked in a passionate embrace, and Regina felt so fragile and wraith-like in his arms, and her taste was still all wrong, but what did he care? This was his woman, and they'd been separated for far too long, and Fates she was so very very naked…

"You're sick," he managed to pant, though the argument flew from his head as her lips found his neck.  
"So make me feel better," she murmured, tightening her grip on him.

It took only the merest push from her to silence any halfhearted argument. He had just enough presence of mind to gently ease her into a more comfortable position in the pillows, but after that his brain pretty much shut off, and it was just soft curves and warm flesh and him and her.

* * *

Regina sighed sleepily, shifting in the sheets. Oh, she was comfortable, and warm for the first time in recent memory… She reached out lazily, then opened her eyes, frowning unhappily when her hand met empty sheets. She struggling to sit up, pulling the sheets with her as she looked around, and then she harrumphed in irritation. Now where had her hulking, stubborn Outlander gone off to? And why was he already able to get out of bed, while she still felt weak and dizzy?

She gently tossed her head to get her hair out of her face, then frowned when she felt something hanging around her neck. She picked up the chain, her face softening into a smile when she saw their heart-rock. How she had missed it. She couldn't be surprised that Dafydd had strung it back around her neck. His possessive streak ran surprisingly wide… Grinning to herself, she leaned back into the pillows, closing her fist around the pendant. It was never leaving her neck again, she vowed; she would keep it forever, and who cared what Jack had to say about it?

"You are a naughty, naughty girl, Regina Hightopp."

She gasped, sitting bolt upright and clutching the sheets around herself, drawing them up high enough to hide the heart-rock, then groaning weakly as the world spun. Right, she needed to remember not to move so quickly. Her gaze flew to the door, to discover Lily standing there with her hands full of a breakfast tray, a knowing smirk on her face.

Regina blushed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I don't know what you could mean," she said demurely.  
"Lies and balderdash," Lily said stoutly, her smirk widening. "Did you or did you not spend last night curled into Dafydd's side like a kitten, not a stitch of clothing between the pair of you?"  
Regina gasped, her blush deepening. "You saw?" she cried, dismayed.  
"Of course I did!" Lily retorted. "You've been laying in that bed unconscious for ten days, Gigi. When did you take him as a lover?" she frowned.  
"Lily!" Regina burst out, mortified.  
"What? That's what he is," Lily shrugged. "Given the ogre you married, I can't say I blame you. Though I'm mad at Dafydd right now for putting you into this whole mess in the first place, so I won't say I approve. Now, when did this start?"  
"How is this Dafydd's fault?" Regina asked, rearing to her Beloved's defense.  
"If he had just proposed to you on the Brae when the clan reunited, there never would have been a Joust in the first place," Lily pointed out. "Now answer the question."  
"The night Jack and I were Bound," Regina admitted, leaning over and reaching for a nightgown.  
"Really?" Lily asked, surprised. "And I was so sure it started around your Queenmaking."

Regina rolled her eyes. So even Lily had assumed that she and Dafydd had been lovers? Od's Breech, they should have begun this affair years ago; apparently they were the only ones who were surprised about their liaison.

"I wondered why you disappeared so early," Lily said, grinning. "Oh, don't be so modest," she laughed as Regina groaned and collapsed onto the mattress, pulling the covers over her head. "You've been in love with him for years. And you have no reason to be faithful to Jack, not after what he's done to you."

Regina sighed, forcing herself up and tying her robe around herself. Lily bit her lip, tilting her head as she observed her cousin. Gigi was still extremely pale and frail-looking. But her color was better, and her eyes were clear for the first time in weeks.

"Gigi?" Lily asked hesitantly. "What do you remember of the last few months?"  
Regina frowned. "Since I fell Mad? Not very much," she admitted.  
Lily nodded; that was about what she'd been expecting. "You've been drugged," she explained. "Do you know what Tea is?"  
Regina nodded slowly. "Aunt Mirana dosed Mama with Tea, when I first came home," she recalled. "To rebalance Mama's emo-" Regina cut herself off, gasping as her eyes widened. "Oh Fates, Aunt Mirana… Uncle Kalen… Oh Lily, I'm so sorry," she said weakly, grabbing Lily's hand.

Lily smiled tremulously. Alright, so Regina remembered some things. That was good.

"They've been dosing you for weeks now, I think," Lily said. "Certainly since you and Jack were Betrothed. We should have seen it when your behavior started changing, but we didn't. I'm so sorry, Gigi."  
"Who are _they_?" Regina asked.  
"Jack and Afanen," Lily spat out. "I caught her putting the Tea in your food. Gwynyth said Afanen Studies Tea."  
"Somehow, I'm not surprised," Regina said ruefully. "That explains why he was so adamant that Afanen join my ladies."  
"Well, you don't have that to worry about anymore," Lily shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Jack pinned the blame on her and stripped her of her title."  
Regina blinked in surprise. "Good Absolem, how much Time have I lost? How… how long has it been since the Joust?" she asked fearfully.  
"One hundred ten days," Lily said apologetically. "You've been Blessed for thirty four, and Bound for fifteen."

Regina stared, struck mute. One hundred ten days since the Joust? Good gracious, that was eleven weeks! How was it possible that she had lost so much time? Fates, this was… She couldn't even comprehend how so much Time had slipped away from her. What had happened to Crims since she'd fallen Mad? What had Jack done to her country?

"I have to go home," she muttered.  
Lily frowned. "You can't mean to go back to him after everything he's done."  
"Yes, I do. Hear me out," Regina said, cutting off Lily's protest. "I can't abandon Crims to him. I leave, I let him win."  
"But if you go back…" Lily trailed off.  
"I know," she said grimly. "I know exactly what he'll try to do. He'll try all of this over again to keep the throne. I can't get out of the marriage, but I can fight him for the crown. Perhaps a duel," she said thoughtfully.  
"You're a White Queen, Gigi," Lily pointed out. "You can't touch weapons."  
"That's true," Regina frowned. "Well then, I'll simply have to outwit him. But I cannot allow things to go on as they have been. I am the Queen of Crims. It's time to act like it."  
"But why must you go back to the palace to do it?" Lily pressed. "You're not safe there-"  
"No, I'm not," Regina cut in. "As long as I'm there, Jack will continue trying to drug me. He'll do anything in his power to keep me under his control. He'll demand my presence in his bed, and he'll…"

Lily pulled Regina into her arms, startled by the fear and panic that had overtaken her cousin in an instant. She rocked them gently, biting her lip as Regina sobbed weakly into her shoulder.

"Oh Lily, I don't want to go back," Gigi whimpered. "I hate Jack, and I hate what he's done to my palace and my queendom. I don't want to go back."  
"Then _don't_," Lily stressed. "Leave Isla Affalin. Stay with Dafydd."

Regina's face crumpled in grief, and she clutched at something that hung around her neck, but which was hidden beneath her robe.

"I will," she whispered. "We're not really truly married, but I want to be with him. But I have to do this, first. I _must_ defeat Jack, and get my throne back. And then I'll come home to Dafydd, and he'll protect me, and I won't be so afraid anymore… Oh Lily, I've been so very afraid," she confessed, shivering. "Can't you give me some Calm? Some Peace, maybe? I know your mother had the recipes. She dosed my mama. Can't you do the same for me?"

Lily swallowed hard, her mouth going dry. Gwynyth had warned her of this; that Regina would likely crave the very Teas she had been enslaved to. After all the Emotions she'd been poisoned with, it wasn't surprising; she had forgotten how to feel, so any strong emotion would be overwhelming and unbearable until she had become reacquainted with herself. Gwynyth had told Lily to refuse Regina any Tea; she hadn't mentioned how difficult it would be.

"No, Regina," Lily shook her head, willing her voice not to crack. "We've only just gotten you dried out-"  
Regina frowned. "It's not like I'm asking you for something horrible. It's just Calm. I'm _hurting_, Lily. I'm asking you for help. Why would you want to keep me in pain?"  
"Letting you stay on Tea would be keeping you in pain," Lily countered. "I want you healthy, Gigi."  
"No you don't," Regina scowled. "You want to control me. Just like Jack. If you really cared for me, you would help me. Go away."  
"No," Lily shook her head. "You aren't leaving my sight again until I'm satisfied you're better."  
"But you won't give me what I need to get better!" Regina snapped, clenching and unclenching her fists. "I swear, Lily, if I wasn't a White Queen-"  
"You couldn't take me, Regina," Lily warned her.  
"Is that a threat?" Regina snarled.  
"A warning," Lily stated. "There will be no Tea."

With a wordless shriek, Regina flung herself at Lily. Lily dodged her easily, flinching as Regina pitched off the bed and collapsed on the floor in a heap. Oh, Dafydd wouldn't thank her if she'd just allowed Regina to injure herself… Lily hesitated, waiting for another attack from the former Champion, but at Regina's first hitched sob she slid down to join Regina and gather the sobbing Queen into her arms.

They sat on the floor for a long time. They said nothing; Lily simply embraced her cousin as Regina cried on her shoulder. Even after her tears abated, they didn't alter their positions; Regina sagged into Lily listlessly while Lily held her together.

"I'm sorry, Lily," Regina whimpered, her voice tiny. "I don't know what came over me."  
"Emotion," Lily sighed, pressing a kiss to Regina's forehead.  
"They hurt," Gigi sniffed.  
"Yes they do," Lily agreed. "But they heal, too."  
"How do I break the Tea addiction?" Regina asked.  
"I don't know if it can ever be fully broken," Lily admitted. "Emotion Teas destabilize your own emotions. You might always crave something to keep you calm and centered."  
Regina sighed heavily, her eyes closing wearily. "So it's another kind of Madness," she whispered.

Lily flinched. Blast the Stars, this wasn't fair. Regina had already had to suffer through so much, and now to add another Madness on top of everything else? When would she catch a break?

"I think you ought to stay in bed a while longer. You're still very weak. I'll have to send Dafydd back up here," Lily frowned. "At least he can keep you in bed, and occupied."  
"Lily," Regina groaned, a scandalized blush returning to her cheeks.  
Lily grinned impishly, kissing Regina's forehead. "Get some sleep, Gigi," she said fondly. "If you're going to be stubborn and go back to that slurvish scut you married, then I insist on you getting your strength back."

Regina shook her head as Lily took her leave. Oh, her cousin was hopelessly shameless. Sighing, Regina sank back into the covers, breathing in Dafydd's scent as she curled her fingers around the heart-rock. Well, this would be a challenge worthy of a Champion…

* * *

Sighing with impatience, Ioan prowled through the stone garden labyrinth of the royal palace of Accor, shoving an agitated hand through his unruly curls every so often. He should be heading back to the castle, he knew; it was nearly suppertime, and after that he was going to help the White Children contact Lily via Looking Glass. Truth be told, he was looking forward to that as much as the younger Adamasi were; it had been twenty long days since he had smuggled the children out of Marmoreal and boarded a boat to Accor. He was just as anxious about the situation back home as the little ones were; probably more so, since he actually understood the severity of the situation.

He had to give his little future in-laws credit; they were bearing their temporary exile well. They seemed to enjoy the novelty of Accor, and though they missed their big sister and their parents, they were for the most part behaving themselves.

Spying a slight figure ahead, Ioan sighed. Well, _most_ of them were adjusting well.

Little Nerissa wasn't faring well since leaving Marmoreal. Though she'd always been the quietest of the royal siblings, since her parents' murders she'd become wraith-like, losing weight and growing pale while losing all her smiles. While Aurora explored the castle with Liegeling Ero, Selena flirted with every guard and Noble who crossed her path, and Draven and Gareth caused trouble, Nerissa could often be found on her balcony, staring out over the Sea as though she could return home by sheer force of will.

Lily had told Ioan to expect Nerissa to come down with a case of Homesickness. It was only to be expected, after all; Lily may be the Crown Keeper, but Nerissa was the one who loved Marmoreal most. And unfortunately, she just had to suffer through it. There was only one cure for Homesickness, and until Lily was certain she'd caught whoever was responsible for Mirana and Kalen's murders, she wasn't about to risk her siblings being vulnerable to the villain.

As he watched Nerissa wander aimlessly, Ioan sighed to himself. He'd grown up an only child, so his experience with children was limited. He had never planned on being a father or a father figure, and Absolem help him he felt so incredibly out of his depth looking after the Adamasi children. He hated feeling helpless; especially watching sweet Nerissa suffer. He was a warrior; he was best against an enemy he could fight. But this? How could he fight against this? No, what he needed was a…

"Argh! Doctor!"  
"What?! It worked, didn't it?"  
"Watch where yer pointin' that thing, Raggedy Man!"

Ioan raised an eyebrow as two people tramped out of the stone maze, looking rather worse for wear. The man, who was apparently a Doctor, wore a deep eggplant colored crushed velvet coat that Ioan was sure Tarrant would envy, purple plaid trousers, a light purple shirt, a bowtie, and an incongruous bright red fez. His companion was a lanky ginger woman who seemed to be torn between frustration and resigned amusement as she eyed the Doctor's large, boxy contraption, which was smoking at one end.

"Ah! Hello!" the Doctor grinned at Nerissa. "You haven't seen a large colony of mome raths run past, have you?"  
"Not lately," Nerissa shook her head.  
"Oh," the Doctor pouted. "Guess we'll just have to wait for them to get back. Haven't seen you before," he added, looking Nerissa over.  
"I'm Ner- um, Rissa. Of Acclamore," she said, nearly forgetting to use the alias all the White Children had been taught.  
"Nerumrissa? Unusual name," the Doctor said with a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You've the look of someone a long way from home, Nerumrissa. I know a thing or two about that."  
"Not so far from friends, though," Ioan said loudly, striding forward to put himself between Nerissa and the strangers.

The Doctor's uncanny look— such old eyes in such a young face— made Ioan uneasy. The Order of Doctors were generally nonviolent as a rule, but they'd been known to tip the balance of wars and topple kings with their vast knowledge. Ioan wasn't going to risk knowledge of the White Children's whereabouts falling into the wrong hands.

"Ah! Her brother, I presume?" the Doctor queried. "I'm the Doctor, and this is Pond."  
"You're a Doctor?" Nerissa asked. "From Jumphasor? Like Gigi's Doctor?"  
"I am," the Doctor nodded. "Who is Gigi?"  
"My cousin," Nerissa said, glancing at Ioan and heeding his silent warning. "She's, um… been very sick."  
"That's unfortunate," the Doctor said, leaning down to look Nerissa in the eye. "But our job is to fix sick people. How long have you been Homesick?"  
"Wait-" Ioan said, gripping his sword.  
"It's alright, Lord Ioan," the Doctor said. "Liegeling Ero sent for us, to tend to Princess Nerissa as a favor to Queen Regina. He's apparently quite enchanted with her. Your secrets are safe with us."  
"He's a complete nutter, but you can trust him," Pond told Nerissa, eliciting a giggle from the wan Princess.  
"We'll see," Ioan said, slowly releasing his sword.  
"Lovely! Now then, Princess, let's have a look at you," the Doctor said, offering Nerissa his arm and walking ahead with her.

Despite his reservations, Ioan stepped back, giving the Doctor room to work. After all, hadn't he just been wishing for a Doctor to manage Nerissa's illness? And anyways, if anything got out of hand, Ioan would have no problem overpowering the Doctor and getting Nerissa out of there. As long as there was no Tea involved in the Doctor's cure, what harm was there?

* * *

Rhys grumbled to himself as he made his way through one of the many tunnels that honeycombed Isla Affalin. The dark, enclosed space really wasn't helping his claustrophobia at all. Curse Dafydd for assigning him this task…

Alright, that actually wasn't fair. Dafydd had originally planned to travel to Isla Affalin himself; it had taken the combined efforts of Regina, Gwynyth, Tarrant, and Rhys to persuade him not to. It was such typical behavior of him; the man had absolutely no concept of his own limits. Despite him and Regina having woken from their comas a little over a week ago, they were both still recovering, and both were weak as newborns. Tarrant and Gwynyth had decided to transport the pair of them to Tearmunn, in the hopes that the Music-Magic of the Hightopps would aid in the recovery process. So, with Dafydd out of commission, Rhys had volunteered to undertake this mission in his stead.

The tunnel angled upwards, and Rhys hurried, knowing from Dafydd's descriptions that the mouth was near. Cautiously, he opened the trapdoor, glancing around the cavernous cellar where the casks of wine were stored. It was cold down here, and still two stories underground, but it was a marked improvement over the tunnel. He popped up through the trapdoor, easing it shut behind him before heading for the door and cautiously heading upstairs.

He paused in a shadowy alcove, trying to remember the directions Dafydd had given him. When they'd designed Isla Affalin, Regina and Dafydd had honeycombed the castle with hidden passageways and shortcuts. They were the only two who knew where they all were. And, now that Rhys thought of it… were none of the entrances to the passages in the wine cellar? Wouldn't that have been more convenient than putting the closest entrance in the kitchens? But anyways… The tunnels were proving very handy. Perhaps the Fearail could make further use of the tunnels for Resistance activity; slip in and leave Jack little tokens of their affection, or sneak food, supplies and letters out. Blast, had they known about the tunnels earlier, maybe they could have smuggled Regina out of the castle before she got Tea-poisoned.

Shaking his head, Rhys refocused. No use fretting over spilled tea; time to focus on the present. The entrance to the passage he needed was around here somewhere. Dafydd had said to look for a mound of potatoes… Aha! Glancing around, Rhys noted that all the kitchen staff appeared to be occupied, gathered around one of the long, main tables while the head Cook discussed plans for supper. He darted across the hall, easing behind the potatoes and holding his breath as a scullery boy paused. He didn't dare to move a muscle as the lad grabbed a cauldronful of potatoes, whistling to himself; he stayed where he was until the boy had left. Then, without wasting any more time, he looked at the walls of the tiny alcove for the hidden trigger stone.

After observing the stone walls, Rhys felt a little foolish. The stones were all completely uniform; same color, same size, all the same smoothness. There was no hint that this was anything but an alcove for potatoes. Perhaps this was the wrong stack of potatoes? He sighed quietly, leaning against the wall… and then he spotted it. It was a tiny little carving; you had to be standing at the exact right spot to see it, otherwise it would be hidden in shadow. It looked like a bunch of grapes, but when Rhys squatted down so the stone would be at eye level, he saw that it was in fact a bunch of apples, arranged to look like grapes. Oh, that was clever. Regina's emblem was the apple tree; Dafydd's coat of arms as Duke of Annwyn included grapes. Affalin and Annwyn, united in all things. How sickeningly sweet of them.

Shaking his head in amusement, Rhys pushed the stone in, holding his breath as the stone wall silently swung in. Grinning in triumph, he slipped into the hidden passage, heading off to his left as he'd been instructed.

Rhys knew he didn't have to worry about making too much noise; the stone walls were thick, and he wouldn't be overheard by anyone in the Rooms Proper. Still, there was no harm in being cautious as he hurried.

He climbed up and up, taking the twists and turns as Dafydd had told him, before finally finding the door. Just why his target was living in one of the compartments that could be accessed by tunnel, Rhys didn't know; or did all of the rooms connect to the tunnels? That was actually a somewhat unsettling thought; there was too much chance that someone could accidentally discover the passages who wasn't meant to know of them. Pushing aside the question— by the Aliblay, he was easily distracted today!— he pressed the trigger stone (this time knowing to look for the disgustingly adorable carving of the bunch of apples) and gently eased the door open, listening intently. He didn't hear any voices or telltale signs of movement; it appeared to be safe to enter the room.

He opened the door just far enough to peek into the room beyond. It was a bedroom, sparsely furnished, and it was empty. Excellent. A dark grin on his face, Rhys passed silently through the bedchamber, peeking through the keyhole into the room beyond.

The Doctor was clearly meant to be eating; there was a loaded tray at his elbow, and a very impatient Noble glaring at him over tightly folded arms. The Doctor, however, spared no attention for his Companion; he held a magnifying glass to his eye and seemed utterly absorbed in the dull red stone he held.

"Ahh, lookit you! You are a gorgeous thing, aren't you?" he enthused, before flapping his hand wildly at his Companion. "Noble, come an' have a lookit this!"  
"I'd rather we 'ave a look at supper," Noble retorted, planting her hands on her hips. "D'you know how long I've been waitin' for a good stack of barbecued borogrove? An' now it's just sittin' here, goin' ta waste, coz you can't stop lookin' at yer rocks!"  
"Oi!" the Doctor exclaimed, an outraged expression on his face. "I will have you know that these 'rocks' aren't just rocks. They whistle when they get to a certain temperature! I hold these puppies long enough, they start singin' like canaries! Don't you wanna know why? I wanna know why!"

Noble raised a silent, expressive eyebrow. At her look, the Doctor sighed, visibly deflating.

"Oh alright. The borogrove, then," he mumbled.  
"Finally," Noble sighed in relief.  
"I wouldn't reach for that tray just yet," Rhys announced, striding through the door.

Noble shrieked in surprise, and the Doctor jolted out of his chair, whipping around. Rhys was ready, though, withdrawing his sword and holding it level with the Doctor's throat.

"Oi! 'Ow'd you get in 'ere, Fearail?" Noble demanded, grabbing and brandishing a dinner fork.  
"That isn't important," Rhys said calmly. "What's important is you giving me what I want."  
"What, you want my rocks? Coz I'm tellin' ya right now, that's not happenin'," the Doctor said. "You can't have Noble, either," he added after a moment's thought.  
"So I rank below the rocks now, is that it?" Noble huffed.  
"Well, can _you_ whistle when you heat up?" the Doctor asked archly.  
"Enough," Rhys interrupted, rolling his eyes. "No, I don't want your rocks."  
"Oh. Well then. What do you want?" the Doctor asked, grinning pleasantly.  
"I want to know why you helped poison Her Majesty with Tea," he said grimly.

The Doctor's face fell, and he visibly slumped, sitting heavily back in his chair as he covered his eyes with his hand. Rhys frowned, narrowing his eyes slightly. The Doctor looked guilty; miserable, even.

"I didn't know," he said glumly.  
"How could you not know? They were your medicines!" Rhys said, exasperated. "You've been making Teas for the Queen since you got here!"  
"That's different," the Doctor shook his head. "The King knew how interested I was in the differences in Teapothecary here and in Jumphasor. He found me a book on the subject an' I got to experiment with as many Teas as I wanted. But I didn't know that any of 'em went to Regina!"  
"I can't decide if that makes you criminally stupid, or if that's the weakest attempt to avoid blame I've ever heard," Rhys said derisively. "But you don't deny that you knew she was being poisoned."  
"Not at first," the Doctor said, resting his elbows on the table as he buried his face in his hands. "At first I thought it was just her Madness again. But the more I examined her… Hightopp eyes are fascinating things," he said suddenly. "The ability to tell whatever they're feeling, just by lookin' at them… I've never found any other being capable of that. That's how I knew something was wrong," he said. "When her eyes stopped matching her moods."  
"But you didn't think to help her," Rhys said harshly. "You just let her suffer."  
"I couldn't get to her," the Doctor said defensively. "The King kept her away from everyone, had her under lock and key in the North Tower. 'Bout the same time he started stuffing everyone into the dungeons."  
Rhys scoffed. "There's no one in the dungeons, daft man."  
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "You don't know? Where do you think he's been keeping the Nobles who don't support him? I've been tending to 'em down there."

Rhys frowned at that, but brushed the information off for now. He had other fish to fry first.

"When the Queen returns to Crims, you're going to do your job," he commanded. "Keep anyone from feeding her more poison. Nurse her back to health. If we need you for more, we'll be in touch."  
"'We'? Who's 'we'?" Noble asked, annoyed.  
"That's not important," Rhys said dismissively. "It's what we do that should concern you. This is your one chance, Doctor. We have eyes and ears everywhere, and we will be watching. If we don't like what we see, I will come back, and you will pay."

He didn't elaborate on what would happen to the Doctor; there was no need. The Doctor nodded slowly, a determined look in his eye, and Rhys nodded in acknowledgement.

"Good. In that case, I'll be taking my leave," he said.  
"'Ow d'you know we won't call the guards as soon as you leave?" Noble challenged him.  
Rhys grinned impishly. "By all means, call the guards if you think it'll help. They could use the exercise."

Tossing them a careless salute, Rhys dashed back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him and opening the wall panel as quickly as possible. He had no idea if Noble actually would call the guards, and even if she did it would take them forever to get up here. But it would only take Noble a moment to cross the sitting room to the bedroom, and Rhys had to ensure that she didn't find the door to the secret passages.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the wall closed behind him. Well, that had gone better than he'd hoped. If nothing else, they'd gotten help for Regina's illness. That was certainly a good start. Of course, it'd be better if they could prevent Regina from having to return to the palace at all until they'd dethroned Jack. But how could that possibly be accomplished, with Jack keeping her so closely under guard?

Frowning to himself, Rhys made his way down into the bowels of the palace, turning the Doctor's words over in his mind. He knew about the dungeon Dafydd had convinced Regina to build, "just in case." But he hadn't heard of anyone being held down there on Jack's orders. The few dissenters had been placed under house arrest in their suites; he'd done plenty of hours guarding doors lately. So what was the madman going on about with this talk of people in the dungeon?

"What're you doin' down 'ere, Hightopp?" Cardin, one of the non-Fearail Albion, asked.  
"The King sent me to relieve you," Rhys lied easily, reaching into his pocket and flipping the other guard a coin. "Go have a few drinks on me, I heard Roz is tending bar tonight."

Cardin didn't argue. Nodding in satisfaction, Rhys grabbed the keys, unlocked the dungeon door, and walked in.

Three steps in, and he halted, blinking in surprise. Right. So the "house arrest" story was clearly a lie. From the sounds of shuffling, coughing and the like, he guessed at least a dozen people were locked up down here. How had he not known this? He was second in command of the Albion, he should have been informed about the state of prisoners. Did any of the Fearail know? Or was this another game of Jack's?

"Rhys!"

He turned, following the hissed whisper to an out-of-the-way cell to his right. As the prisoner stepped to the door, Rhys rushed forward in surprise.

"Clover! What are you doing here?" he asked.  
"Vulpez," she said bitterly. "Caught me trying to send a letter with Gregan. Is Regina alright?"  
Rhys paused, then nodded. "She's at Tearmunn, with Dafydd."  
"Good," Clover sighed in relief, before reaching through the bars to grip Rhys' wrist. "You've got to get Gregan out of here."  
"What?!" Rhys exclaimed.

Clover nodded to the cell across from hers. Quickly, Rhys found the key and opened the door, his jaw dropping in indignation. Gregan was tucked into a ball, hugging himself as he slept. Bruising was evident on his face, his arms, his broken hand; evidence of the Albion's more base tactics.

"Why?" he asked tightly, looking back at Clover.  
"Conspiracy to treason," she replied. "Same as most of us down here."

Rhys shook his head, fuming. He'd had no idea about any of this, but the dungeon had been guarded by an Albion. What else did he not know? He needed to put a stop to this.

"I'll get him out," he muttered. "You too."  
"How?" Clover asked.  
"There are secret passages we can take," Rhys replied.

A sudden thought gave him pause, and he hesitated before stepping out of Gregan's cell and relocking the door.

"I'll be back for you," he promised, before rushing out of the dungeon.

As he made his way through the palace towards the upper levels, Rhys tried to brace himself for what he was about to do, all the while wondering how she had managed to worm her way into the core of his being. When had it happened? Rhys couldn't tell, and maybe there was no single moment; perhaps he'd been falling in love by stages. But somewhere in the midst of all their scheming, Rhys had become entirely entranced by Mary Contrary's quixotic charms.

It seemed cruel, that he should lose her before he'd even had a chance to earn her love. But that seemed to be his fate. He'd sworn oaths as a Fearail, and made promises to Dafydd, to protect Regina and her interests. He couldn't shirk that duty, not when his services were more vital than ever. As Nazari Hassasseen, they'd always been trained to place the greater good above their own desires; this should be no different, especially since Mary wasn't even Rhys' to lose.

Swallowing hard, he knocked on her door, bracing himself for this farewell. His heart lurched as she opened the door; her smile was overwhelming, her face flushed with victory.

"Oh Rhys, it's all going so well!" she gushed, grabbing his arm and dragging him into her greenhouse-like suite. "I knew spreading rumors would be the best way to force Jack to get rid of Afanen!"  
"That was you?" Rhys asked.  
"Who else?" she asked smugly.  
He shook his head in admiration. "You're a wonder."  
"I know," she smirked. "So, have you come to celebrate my cleverness?"  
He cleared his throat. "I've come to say goodbye."  
"Oh," Mary said blankly, before smiling. "Wonderful! Where are we going?"  
"Not we. Me," he said. "I have… a mission. I can't tell you more, it'll put you at risk."  
"My favorite place to be," she retorted. "When will you be back?"  
He shook his head. "I won't."  
Mary's smile faltered, and her brows drew together. "Why not?"  
"When the deed is discovered… Jack will know it was me," he explained. "He'll hunt me down."  
"More reason to stay here," Mary said stubbornly. "Make it easy to find you."  
"And when I'm captured? What then?" he counted. "How can I help Regina then?"  
"Hang Regina," Mary said rebelliously. "Stay for me. Who else can I scheme with, if you're gone?"  
"Mary-" he said helplessly, but she cut him off again.  
"No. You love me, you're staying," she glared.

Rhys blinked. Wait… what?

"Wait… what?" he choked.

How on earth had she known? He'd been so careful to hide it!

Mary scoffed. "Please. Of course you love me. You haven't even tried to kiss me yet." At his blank look, she grinned. "If you didn't care, kissing me wouldn't be a great deal. But you've held back, waited for me to come to you. You love me."

Rhys stared at her, still reeling. Curse Underlandish logic, had that even made sense?

Before he could sort it out, Mary grabbed his jerkin and pulled him down to her level, planting her lips firmly on his.

Hang logic.

He threaded his arms around her, hauling her into him and deepening the kiss, trying to drink her in though he knew he'd never drink his fill. She pulled him closer in appreciation, returning his kiss with equal fervor until it reached brutal force. Only then did she wrench her lips from his, staring into his eyes with burning intensity.

"You are _never_ to say goodbye to me again, Rhys Hightopp," she declared, gripping his jerkin tightly. "You're going to go do whatever it is you have to do, and you'll probably be gone for a long time. But you _will_ return to me, do you understand?"

Rhys nodded dumbly, tightening his arms around her, hardly daring to believe this was real. Grinning brightly, Mary nodded in recognition before pulling him back down for another kiss, this one unbearably tender.

This, Rhys thought fuzzily. This must be the malady that had affected his kin. This was why Dafydd had killed Niall and stood against his entire family; this was why Ioan had left the clan to be by Lily's side. The strength of this feeling terrified Rhys; to what lengths might he now go for Mary? But how could he deny this dance with Madness?

Slowly, Mary pulled away, leaving Rhys feeling oddly empty and bereft. He followed her like a ghost as she walked among her garden beds, understanding instantly as she cut and handed him a wandering pansy—_carry me with you in your travels_.

"Go," she said softly. "And send me word if you can."  
He nodded, tucking the flower into his belt. "I love you."  
"I know," she smirked.

Smiling faintly, Rhys left. He had plans to make now; plans for his imminent departure, to smuggle Gregan and Clover to Tearmunn, and then plans for his return— to Mary, to home.

* * *

The entire population of Isla Affalin stood in the town square, chattering quietly between themselves. It was market day, but the presence of the royal guards in the square cast a pall on the normally boisterous townsfolk.

A group of young men— fishermen from the coast of the Crimson Sea, by their dress— walked through the market. Two of them carried a large net of freshly caught fish, while four others tossed a ball back and forth, laughing and showing off for the admiring town girls. The leader of the group ignored his friends' antics; he walked with purpose, cutting through the square and heading for the market stalls.

As the young men crossed the square, one of the ones who had been tossing the ball around broke away, falling in step with the group's ringleader. He squinted in the afternoon sun, running one work-roughened hand through his short, dark hair.

"We shouldn't be risking this," he muttered, his dark brown eyes sweeping the crowd for threats. "If we're caught-"  
"The risk is what makes it fun," the taller man cut him off, grinning darkly as he tossed his sandy curls off his brow. "You worry too much, Rhys."  
"And you haven't worried enough, since the Heartbreak," Rhys retorted. "What are we supposed to do if you go and get yourself caught, huh? We won't be able to move fast enough to save your head, and then Regina will have _our_ heads. I won't put myself on the wrong side of her temper, Dafydd, not even for you."  
"If we don't do this, she might not live long enough to take our heads," Dafydd retorted, fear sharpening his voice.

Ever since Tarrant and Gwynyth had transported their children to Hatsfield, Dafydd had recovered quickly. The Song had finished what Regina had begun, and he was soon back on his feet, completely fine. But Regina's recovery wasn't progressing so smoothly. Indeed, she was scarcely any better than she had been since waking from the coma. She was weak as a kitten, and her emotions were still unpredictable and unstable. Gwynyth said it was no more than they could expect; Regina's emotions had been controlled by Tea for so long that her body had forgotten how to regulate on its own.

But, Gwynyth had said, there was hope. The market in Isla Affalin was vast and varied; Gwynyth often traveled there to trade in herbs and trade recipes with her colleagues. She had handed a list of herbal supplies to Dafydd, and told him that if he could bring these back to her, she could prepare a tonic for Regina that might help.

So here Dafydd was with Rhys and a few of the Fearail, all in disguise to move more easily among the crowd. While he was in town, Dafydd had figured he might as well have a chat with a prominent member of the Resistance. And so the group of "fishermen" clustered together at the edge of the square, by the metalsmith's building.

Turning to Rhys, Dafydd handed him his mathair's list. "Get these for me, would you?"

Rhys nodded, signaling the other Fearail as he walked off. The group picked up their game of knockabout, providing a distraction so Dafydd could slip in unnoticed.

He squinted as he walked in, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom after being outdoors so long. "Aynville?" he called softly.  
"I'm closed at this hour," a grizzled voice called back. "Come back after tea."  
"I'll be away before tea's over," Dafydd answered, carefully shutting the door behind him. "Besides, you've set out a place for me, broken china and all."  
"So I have," the blacksmith replied.

He lumbered forward, wiping his hands on his apron. Aynville Hammersun was a mountain of a man, his muscles bulging beneath incredibly dark skin. He looked fearsome, until he smiled; when he smiled it was as if the sun had come out to play. His smile was rare, but within five minutes of knowing Aynville it was obvious that he was one of the kindest, most decent men to ever grace Underland with his presence.

"It's been longer than I expected since your last visit, Carpenter," the black man rumbled, holding out his hand for Dafydd to clasp.  
"Aye, it has," Dafydd nodded.  
"What can I do for you?" Aynville asked, hooking his thumbs into the strings of his leather apron.  
"I have some fishing hooks need fixing," Dafydd spoke the code easily, reaching into the sea bag slung over his shoulder and retrieving four badly bent hooks.  
"I can see that," Aynville nodded. "Bit out of my usual line of work, but shouldn't take me too long to set 'em to rights. Have a seat."

Dafydd gratefully sat down in the old, threadbare armchair Aynville pointed to, happy to set his heavy bag down and rest for the duration of this transaction. Aynville hummed to himself as he set the hooks on his anvil, reaching for one of his many hammers.

"What sort of fish are you after?" Aynville inquired.  
"Pilot fish, mostly," Dafydd said, scratching at his beard. "Lost sight of the shark in the water."  
"That's never wise when you're swimming," Aynville commented. "Especially when you and the shark are eyeing the same piece of meat. Prime piece of flesh, at that."

Dafydd glared at Aynville. Really, there was no need to refer to Regina as a piece of meat, even within the confines of the coded language. The black man shot a grin over his shoulder, fully knowing just how much he was infuriating the Queen's Champion.

"In any case, the meat's moved downstream, and the shark's chasing it," the blacksmith continued, turning back to his work.  
Dafydd frowned. "Really?"  
"I was at that swimming hole you like, couple days ago," Aynville related. "Shark's been causing all sorts of fuss since he got home."  
"And the pilot fish?" Dafydd asked, fighting back his worry.  
"Swarming all over the river," Aynville nodded.  
"Any idea how long?" Dafydd asked, running an agitated hand through his hair.  
"Well now, I was at the swimming hole five days ago," Aynville said. "Shark had just gotten home from his old breeding grounds."

Dafydd nodded, taking in the news. So Jack had gone to visit Afanen's estate? Unusual, since she was never there. What business did he have there?

"From what I hear, shark's abandoned his old mate," Aynville rumbled. "Probably clearing out his school so he can keep the meat all for himself."  
"Wouldn't surprise me," Dafydd said ruefully, seeing the sense in Aynville's theory.  
"If I were you, I'd keep that stolen meat close," Aynville said craftily, before turning his attention to his work. "These hooks are a might tricky. Might take me longer than I figured to set them to rights."  
"I'll come back for them," Dafydd said easily. "No rush."

Clapping Aynville on the shoulder, Dafydd picked up his bag and slipped back outside, swallowing hard and drawing a deep breath to regain his composure. Aynville would enjoy the fishing hooks he'd brought, Dafydd knew; the fishing in the Crimson Sea was excellent this time of year, and would provide the blacksmith's large family with enough food to get them through the winter.

Leaving the rest of his men to their ball, he crooked a finger, motioning Rhys closer. The two men leaned against the blacksmith's wall, hidden by the game and by the shadow of the overhanging roof.

"Jack's been causing trouble," he said, his voice low.  
Rhys rose an eyebrow. "I know that," he said drily.  
"And you haven't told me because…?" Dafydd asked.  
"Because until recently you've been on Death's doorstep, knocking for a cup of tea," Rhys shot back, glancing around before leaning in and lowering his voice. "I found something at Afanen's. I think it's poison. If I'm right, it was used to kill Mirana, Kalen and Leferidae."

Dafydd stared, his jaw dropping in shock. Rhys nodded, then continued.

"I handed the book off to a friend in Marmoreal. He's going to get it to Lily," he said.  
"You think Jack…?" Dafydd trailed off, before exhaling sharply and rubbing his face. "If he's killing people now, she's not safe in Isla Affalin."  
"But she has to go back," Rhys pointed out. "She can't take her throne back without the Heart, and the Heart is in the palace."

Before Dafydd could draw breath to reply, a Pawn leapt up onto the raised platform in the center of the square, clutching a roll of parchment in his hand.

"I bear an order from the King of Hearts!" he declared, breaking the wax seal on the scroll and allowing the bottom half to drop to the boards on which he stood. "By order of His Majesty, Dafydd Hightopp, the Queen's former Champion, has been banished from Crims, and all the members of the Outlandish Fearail with him."

The assembled crowd began to murmur to each other in astonishment at the proclamation. The Fearail's game of knockabout ceased, all of them standing up straighter and paying attention now, though none of them glanced back at Dafydd. The Pawn raised his voice, struggling to be heard over the crowd.

"He has been found guilty of treason to the Crown and of suspected rebellion," the Pawn continued. "His title and lands of Annwyn are thus forfeit to the Crown. King Jacoby has seen fit in his wisdom to bestow the aforementioned title and lands to his Captain of the Guard and Champion, Lord Duff. Anyone suspected of harboring, aiding, or hiding the fugitive Dafydd Hightopp from the King's justice will be arrested. There is a reward for anyone who steps forward with information about Dafydd Hightopp's whereabouts."

With that, the Pawn leapt off the platform, walking over to nail the notice to the large apple tree in the middle of the square.

All of a sudden, Dafydd felt sick; a great pressure bearing down upon him, like a giant hand pushing him to the edge of town. He gritted his teeth, glancing at his men and nodding when he saw they looked as bad as he suddenly felt.

"Let's go," he said, motioning to them.

None of them argued. Now that they were moving, he felt slightly better, which was what told him what this was. As Monarch, Jack had the Power of Words. His proclamation wasn't just a piece of paper; by reading it, the Page had enacted Jack's Will. The Fearail were banished now; outlawed from the entire kingdom.

"Huh," Dafydd said intelligently, striding away as quickly as he could just to end the feeling of being dominated by Jack's Will. "This is inconvenient."  
"I don't understand," Rhys frowned, keeping pace with him. "You left the palace ages ago. Why banish you now?"  
"Jack threatened Regina at the Queenmaking. Promised her my head for a Blessing present," Dafydd said grimly, clenching his jaw. "He's doing this to bring her to heel."

He exhaled sharply in irritation, rubbing his forehead as he felt the drums stirring to life behind his eyes. Jack had stolen Dafydd's woman, his crown, he threatened the existence of Dafydd's son… and now he was taking Dafydd's home as well?

"Hyll fab i ffycin cyw iâr butain," he spat, punching an obliging rock.  
"Easy," Rhys said with a sad attempt at a laugh, laying a hand on Dafydd's shoulder. "No need to sully the chickens."  
"We need to get back to Tearmunn," Dafydd replied. "You go ahead of me, with the rest of them. Get that medicine to my mathair."  
"What about you?" Rhys asked.  
"I need to have a talk with the Old Woman," Dafydd said. "I'll see you at home tonight."  
"Don't be too long," Rhys said. "Or Gigi really will have your head."

Orders dispensed, Dafydd broke away from his band, shifting his bag over his shoulder. Reassured by the heavy weight of his concealed claymore, he strode through the crowd, veering clear of the Pawns. He couldn't risk his former soldiers recognizing him… Fortunately, the guards were more interested with who was coming into the city than who was leaving. While the guards examined some unfortunate man's apple cart, Dafydd slipped through the gateway and took off down the road, walking the short distance towards the stand of trees where he'd tethered Arturias.

"Change of plans, boy," Dafydd murmured, stroking the Stallion's snout. "We have to go to the Old Woman, as fast as we can."  
"Always in such a rush."

Dafydd's head shot up, and he looked around confusedly for the source of the gravelly, imperious voice.

"Zhithene?" he asked.  
"Hurrying so much, you're like as not to miss what's right in front of you," the Seer's voice continued. "For the love of the Flowers, I'm right here, boy."

Dafydd blinked, focusing on the Keeper. Alright, it wasn't his fault he hadn't seen her on his saddle; he was willing to swear on his mathair's life that she had not been there a second ago.

"Zhithene," he sighed, trying to be polite even though he really wasn't in the mood for her riddles. "Well, that saves me a trip."  
"Indeed," Zhithene said drily. "You've already solved all your puzzles, lad, what d'you need me for?"  
"How in the name of all the Days am I supposed to get Regina her throne back if I'm banished?" he asked irritably, scooping the tiny Keeper up and settling her on his shoulder as he took off on his Horse.  
"Every butterfly must break through its cocoon alone," Zhithene said sagely. "If she wants her crown, she must break her addiction."

Dafydd sighed harshly, glaring back towards the castle. Did Zhithene think Dafydd had forgotten about Regina's crown? What did she think he had been doing with himself, playing hopscotch? Why else was he running raids, passing information? Why was he doing any of this, if not to win back Regina's Fates-forsaken crown?

As if she could read his thoughts, Zhithene cackled around her pipe, as though Dafydd was a particularly amusing child.

"You are a silly boy, aren't you?" she asked. "If you had the sense Underland gave a sheep you'd have seen that Regina can't very well leave her Heart, not even for you. Now hear me out," she pressed, holding up a hand to forestall his objection. "Yes, you have Regina's heart, completely. You should know that," she chided him.

She raised her eyebrows, fixing him with a Look until he harrumphed and fell silent. Nodding in acknowledgement of his silence, she continued on.

"But Regina is bound to the Heart. _The_ Heart," she stressed. "The Heart of Crims. Regina was bound to It when she became Queen. It's a part of her. She cannot _not_ be Queen, because she's been claimed by the Heart. You can't hear it," she added, "but the Heart is crying. It wants Regina back on the throne."

Dafydd frowned as he mused over that. Truth be told, no one had ever explained to him the exact mechanics of Regina's Queenmaking. He knew she'd been bound to Crims somehow, but he'd never been sure of what that meant. But if she was part of the Heart of Crims, then why…?

"But if Crims wants Regina to rule so badly, then how can Jack still be in power?" he frowned.  
"Ah," Zhithene said, a proud smile on her face. "I knew you would see it. That's just it, you see. He has power because the Queen wills it. She believes she has no choice, and so she is left with nothing."  
"And if she realized her power…" Dafydd said slowly.  
"Then power would return to her," Zhithene finished. "I told you you were good at puzzles."  
"But then someone should tell her," Dafydd said blankly.  
"You can't, stupid boy," Zhithene shook her head. "You can't fight all her battles for her. It's for Regina to know her own heart. And come to know it she will, but now is not the time. She must get well, and you must get back to her. Time is wasting."

Dafydd shook himself. Zhithene was right, he was a stupid boy. He needed to get home in case his mathair needed help with Regina, but here he was lollygagging in an easily visible glen when he was a wanted outlaw. He'd be of no use to Regina if he was captured, he berated himself as he nudged Arturias into a canter. Time was wasting, and he still had much to do.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: Son of a bitch, this chapter. With all the things happening. This chapter was a headache, you guys.

Any resemblance the Doctor and Pond, and the Doctor and Noble, may have to Eleven/Amy and Ten/Donna is entirely and completely on purpose. Not that this is a crossover. But if ever a world needed a mad man and his sassy ginger companion, it's Wonderland.

As per usual, translation for Dafydd's Outlandish cursing comes from Google, so I can't be positive as to the accuracy. As I've said several times, I've decided that the former Nazari speak an archaic form of Outlandish that sounds suspiciously like Welsh, whereas Tarrant and Regina's Outlandish is primarily Scots Gaelic in an attempt to somewhat honor canon. Ish. (In reality, Tarrant and Regina's Outlandish is a complete mishmash of Irish and Scots Gaelic, chosen more for meaning than linguistics.)

Hyll fab i ffycin cyw iâr butain: [Welsh] "ugly son of a chicken fucking whore". I, um… I made that one up myself. It makes me giggle more than it probably should.

There will be a BTP chapter up next – which is just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you, I promise. I hadn't intended for this chapter to exist; it was only supposed to be a scene within this chapter. But then it got too long, and it didn't really have anything to do with any of the plots, so it got moved into BTP. On the plus side, it's letting me add a couple of scenes I didn't think I would get the chance to write, so yay!


	5. The Shuffling of the Deck

**Author's Note**: First of all, apologies for being so horrifically slow to update (again). That was a combination of bad timing and bad communication on my part; I've been working theatre gigs nonstop for the last six months, and I sent this chapter off to my beta right during the busiest part of my current show's rehearsal schedule. Life should be calming down in a week or so, so hopefully the next chapter will be out more quickly.

**Special Thanks**: A bajillion thanks to Ranguvar27 for being such a great beta!

* * *

For a long time, the Cave of Contingency had lain silent, spellbound and breathless. Though the Cave had ever been the home and the haven of the Cheshire Cat, for many weeks now there had been no sound but the echo of dripping water; no movement but for the shimmering and rippling of the tear in the Veil that separated all realities. The Cheshire herself had not moved in months, not since the Spirit of Underland had frozen her to the spot she currently occupied, holding her captive and forcing her to witness the unfolding of the future she had forced into existence.

She'd sat frozen for an endless series of eternities, with nowhere to hide as the events played out before her eyes. Even her twisted, shattered, Mad little mind had provided no respite; the future unfolded within her as well as without.

She had watched Mirana and Kalen fall, seen Leferidae's murder, helplessly witnessed her beloved Regina's heart stop and her breath still. She had watched Jack open a door to Darkness, seen him drive his bride and his land to sickness and Madness. She had borne witness to the exile of the little Queen, watched as uncertain possibilities coalesced into inescapable certainty.

Funny, that so much death and devastation was necessary to ensure one birth.

YOU SEE NOW, the ageless Voice of Underland echoed— in her Cave, or in her head? YOU SEE HOW UNBALANCED I BECOME WHEN A CHESHIRE TRIES SO HARD TO FORCE A FUTURE ON ME.

She could move again, all of a sudden, as if she'd never been immobilized at all. But she was so stiff and sore that she couldn't move; she tumbled off her perch and lay in a heap on the ground, mewing in pain.

"But it's so much fun to force your hand," the Cat commented pertly, if breathlessly, her voice scratchy and hoarse from disuse. "Can't trust you to care for yourself, thoughtless land."

IMPERTINENT CAT, the Spirit grumbled.

She smirked. "You don't want me here to be meek," she pointed out. "It's to guide your future that I you seek."

AND WHAT WILL YOU NOW DO WITH THIS FUTURE YOU HAVE CREATED?

"Why, I shall go and have some fun," Cheshire replied. "At this point, what else can be done?"

AND WHAT OF THIS FUTURE? WILL YOU NOT SEEK TO CHANGE WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO YOUR LITTLE QUEEN?

A wide, Mad grin split the Cheshire's face. "My pretty Queen is a lovely pawn. And like the Butterfly they call her, she'll all too soon be gone. But I've given her a son and changed her Fate. The rest is left for her and her Mate. Now leave me in peace, you nagging old Voice. The future is set and I've made my choice."

She didn't wait for the Voice to answer; she just transmogrified herself out of that Fates-forsaken Cave. First things first, she was famished. After she enjoyed a nice fat fish and gave herself a thorough cleaning, she would have to have a talk with the Old Woman, get herself acclimated in the threads of Time. After all, the birth of Regina's little Prince was but one thread in a whole great tapestry, and she needed to see how her Weavers were doing with their patterns.

* * *

The weather was rather unpleasant; a dull grey sky, a damp chill that seeped through one's clothes and into one's bones, and mounds of dispirited-looking snow. It was, Dafydd grumped to himself, perfectly appropriate weather for how he felt right now.

He wondered if this was to be their final goodbye.

It had been three weeks since Regina had opened her eyes. Three weeks of recovery in Tearmunn had left Dafydd completely healed, hale and hearty as if he'd never suffered Heartbreak. Regina's healing process was taking much longer; Gwynyth had privately told him that she doubted Regina would ever be as she was before the Tea poisoning. She was still quite pale and weak, and tired easily; her emotions were still a tangle. Any strong emotion was enough to set her off into a spiral of panic and Madness, and so everyone— Alice, Tarrant, Gwynyth, Dafydd, Healer Isabeau— had done everything they could to keep Regina in a tranquil mood. Luckily for Dafydd, the easiest way to keep Regina docile was if he was beside her. He had taken full advantage of that situation, and Tarrant had egged him on. Even Alice had ceased her non-approving Looks; he had no idea how she'd come around to accepting the relationship, but he was grateful. He had needed this time; these three weeks were possibly the only time he would ever have Regina to himself like this again. He needed to build up enough memories to last him a lifetime without her.

Gwynyth had proclaimed Regina well enough to travel, if she had an attendant to watch her carefully. Gwynyth and Dafydd had accordingly chosen a young Hightopp girl by the name of Aderyn who'd been orphaned by the Battle of the Brae to serve as Regina's handmaiden. Aderyn would remain at Regina's side day and night, fetching medicines and shawls and talking Regina down from her out-of-control emotions as needed. If Dafydd couldn't remain with his wife, he supposed Aderyn was the next-best thing.

Now Regina was traveling with Alice to Marmoreal for the long-delayed Meeting of the Deck, when the Queens of Underland would elect the next High Queen. After the High Queen had been crowned, Regina would return to Crims… and to Jack.

The thought utterly infuriated Dafydd. He hated knowing that Regina was willingly returning to a man who had abused her, driven her Mad, and stolen her throne. Worse yet was the knowledge that Regina could never escape Jack, that they were bound together until one of their hearts stopped beating; that no matter how much Dafydd loved her, he couldn't save her from the Vows she had spoken. She was lost to him… and they were saying goodbye again.

When Regina left Tearmunn in a few minutes' time, Dafydd would also leave. He might not be able to separate Jack and Regina, but he could work to discredit the Usurping King, to bring food and supplies to the towns and villages that were suffering under Jack's rule, to keep the people's support firmly with their Queen.

The most difficult part of the Resistance— aside from the fact that Regina and Jack couldn't escape each other, that is— was the fact that Dafydd and the Fearail were exiled from Crims. They needed a headquarters; somewhere close enough to Crims to be effective, but not within the kingdom's borders. It had been Regina who had unknowingly provided Dafydd with the answer. One night, as they lay in each others' arms, she had reminded him of the time he had kidnapped her and brought her to the coast of the Crimson Sea. There had been an island out in the Sea, within sight of the coast but not a part of Crims itself, which Regina had admired that day; Dafydd had lazily promised to conquer it for her. Their own private kingdom, where they could be free of the Court and the Council, where they would be the rulers and only subjects.

He had never gotten around to it— just another broken promise— but now he was grateful that he had not. The island, which they had christened Prydein after the kingdom ruled by Dafydd's namesake King Dafydd and his Queen Aisling, would make a perfect base of operations, especially if he asked the Old Woman to connect it to the maze of rabbit holes that crisscrossed Underland. He could stay on the island, within sight of Isla Affalin, and work to bring his Queen back to power.

It was still exile, and it was still goodbye. But it was something.

He sighed as he refocused on the carriages, all packed and ready. It was time. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he walked into the High House, making his way up to Regina's— their— bedroom.

Despite his frustration at having to face yet another goodbye, he couldn't help but grin to himself as he quietly walked in. There were no servants present, thank the Stars; Regina had chosen to dress herself, and was currently struggling with the slippery row of tiny pearl buttons marching up her spine. He could be a good husband and help with that.

"Have I ever told you red isn't your color?"

Regina gasped in surprise, whirling to face the doorway. She narrowed her eyes at his grinning face, but she wasn't able to keep hold of her momentary pique as he strode forward, catching her in his arms and trapping her both in his frame and in the gown.

"We really must stop meeting like this," she giggled breathlessly. "People will talk."  
Dafydd made a face. "Let them," he grumbled, grazing her lips with his. "Leave this off a while longer."  
"Persuade me," she murmured, with more daring than she knew she had.

Dafydd groaned; this woman was going to be the death of him! Helplessly, he threaded his fingers through her hair, kissing her soundly. He should be gentler with her, he knew that; she'd been terribly ill, and she wasn't better yet. But he only had these few precious stolen moments, and she was only encouraging him…

He had her pressed into the closed door before he even realized he'd moved. They'd become quite familiar with each other over the past few weeks, but there was still a breathtaking newness to the intimacy, a disbelieving joy that this could really be true, that they could actually be together. He refused to label it a final goodbye, even in the darkest corners of his mind; he couldn't tolerate the thought that he would never hold her again, never kiss her, never chase her into heaven and hold her as they fell back to earth.

"Ma taavi," he sighed, drowning in the scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood. "You make me lose my head."  
"That's no good," she murmured, and he could hear the frown in her voice. "I'm quite fond of your head, and you have need of it."

Dafydd nodded, sweeping Regina into his arms and grinning as she gasped in surprise. He walked them to a large armchair, settling them with her in his lap. Once they were comfortable, he sighed, getting down to business in the few moments he had left with her.

"The Fearail are going to disappear," he began, reluctantly doing up the buttons of her dress. "Since your idiot husband decided to exile us. We'll set up headquarters somewhere close, though. So I can keep an eye on you."  
Regina nodded in understanding. "You will be careful?"  
"Of course," he said dismissively. "Fates, I wish I could bring you with me. I don't want him anywhere near you," he declared, punctuating the statement with a kiss.

What was supposed to be only a quick peck quickly became an inferno blazing out of control. Brimini, this was the most exquisite form of torture. He wanted to keep her so badly, wanted to sink into her and claim every last part of her, body, soul and mind. He wanted— needed— hours, days, years, a lifetime of this… Time enough to worship her, to set her ablaze and make her understand how much he loved_wanted__**needed**_ her… But he could have only moments before they were separated again. How much longer could he endure this?

"Someday, when all of this is over," he muttered against her neck, shuddering as her nails dragged across the thin material of his tunic, "I'm taking you away from here. We'll run away, somewhere where Time can't find us, and we'll make up for everything he's taken from us."  
"Yes," she whispered in surrender. "Just you and me, no distractions."

It was a futile, beautiful tragedy of a dream. There was no future for them, and they both knew it. If they were very, very lucky, they might occasionally be able to meet here in Tearmunn, where Jack couldn't see. But there was no fairy tale ending for them; they would never be together the way they should have been. It was their punishment for not declaring themselves when they had the chance, Regina supposed. But let them deny the truth for just a little while longer.

Oh heavens, she couldn't keep her head! The entire world had gone fuzzy, and her head was swimming as though she were traveling through a looking glass. The only thing anchoring her to the world was Dafydd; if not for his questing hands and lips doing such wonderful things to her, she would simply float away…

Dafydd groaned softly as he registered Regina's grandfather clock chiming the time. All of a sudden, Tarrant's grudge against the tyrant made perfect sense.

"You have to go," he whispered.  
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "I know. Kiss me."

This he willingly did, and she threaded her arms around him as though she could meld them together through force of will. For a long moment, they lost themselves within the kiss, delaying their separation as they sought to become one. But alas, they knew all too well that such moments couldn't last, and they ended the kiss with a mutual sigh.

"I love you, mo laoch," Regina whispered, not trusting her voice to hold steady if she spoke aloud.  
"I love you too, dearbadan-de," Dafydd returned, stroking her cheek. "Are you still painting flowers?"  
"Always," she softly promised.

A knock on the door disrupted them, wrenching a quiet whimper from Regina's throat. Closing his eyes in resignation, Dafydd pressed his forehead to hers.

"Come in," he called.  
The door opened, and Aderyn bobbed a quick curtsey. "Apologies, milady, milord," she said, sounding genuinely regretful. "Queen Alice sent me to fetch you. It's time to leave."

Regina drew a slow, deep breath. She knew this moment had to come; there was no point in delaying it further and causing herself and Dafydd more pain. She was the one who had made this decision; she would live with the consequences of her choices.

"Of course, Aderyn," she nodded. "Thank you. I'll be right down."

Aderyn nodded, bobbing another quick curtsey before turning and heading downstairs. Schooling her face to composure, Regina forced herself to stand and straighten her clothes as Dafydd rose to his feet. For a moment she looked at him silently; only a two-foot gap separated them, but what an insurmountable chasm!

"Always," she whispered again, forcing a weak, watery smile to her lips.

That done, she forced herself to walk away from her touchstone and to walk outside. It was ugly weather, threatening snow, and Regina welcomed it; the weather perfectly matched her mood. She had lost her sun, and with every step she felt the cold within growing, threatening to consume her. She didn't know how she was going to survive the rest of her life without him, but she had no choice; their love affair had been over before it began, and she had been the one to murder it.

And so, as she stood in the courtyard, she allowed herself to whisper the word she had been denying for so long.

"Goodbye."

She didn't have long to be miserable, though; Time kept marching on, and so must she. There was work to do, even though her heart was breaking.

"I can't understand why Jack's chosen the fashions he has," Alice stated as she appeared in the garden arm in arm with Tarrant, Brax toddling alongside them. "You'll catch your death of cold in that."

Regina glanced down at her short gown, with its plunging neckline leaving half her chest exposed and the skirt that ended just above her knees. It was a scandalously improper dress for a young lady of London from their time. It was even a rather improper gown for Underland. Regina sighed, plucking self-consciously at the bodice of the gown.

"I know," she admitted. "Jack and I had many arguments about my clothes. He refused to let me dress like a 'Victorian prude' or a 'medieval painting'," she quoted, wrinkling her nose. "I refused to walk about mostly undressed. Afanen already does enough of that for the whole Court," she muttered cattishly.  
"At least take this with you, to keep the draft off," Tarrant said.

He walked forwards, draping a soft cashmere shawl around Regina's shoulders. It was a dark, deep blue; very similar to the color of Dafydd's eyes, Regina noticed, smiling to herself sadly. Both ends were fringed, and the fabric was embroidered with dancing sashes and top hats and thimbles and butterflies and swords.

"It's beautiful, Da," Regina sighed, falling into his embrace. "Thank you."  
"I wish you wouldn't go back," he sighed, fussing over the draping of the shawl.  
"I know," Regina said patiently, really not wanting to rehash this argument. "But if I don't go back, then there's no point in me being Queen, is there?"  
"Then at least promise us you'll be careful," Alice beseeched Regina, placing both hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Promise me I'm never going to walk into a room and see you collapsed on the floor, bleeding and not breathing."  
"I'll try, Mama," Regina promised. "Things are coming to a head, I think. One way or another, this can't last too much longer."  
"No, I don't suppose it can," Tarrant murmured. "You're strong, Regina; frighteningly so, I think. You're certainly stubborn enough to force this to turn out the way you wish."  
"A trait I inherited from my mama, so I'm told," Regina smiled.  
"I always chose to blame your father, personally," Alice smiled back.  
Tarrant smiled weakly before kissing Regina's forehead. "Be safe, my little butterfly."  
"I promise, Da," Regina said. "I'm a Champion, still. I'll fight."

Smiling weakly, Regina knelt down, summoning a smile for her baby brother as he rushed into her arms.

"Rena bye?" Brax asked sadly, his chubby arms tight around her neck.  
"I'm afraid so, poppet," she nodded. "Rena has to go topple a house of cards."  
"No," Brax frowned, his butterscotch eyes fading to a stormy, ugly brown-grey. "Rena stay."  
"I wish I could, Brax," she sighed, laying her head on his. "But I'll be home again soon. I promise."  
"Shall we?" Alice asked, turning from her farewell with Tarrant.

Brax whimpered, clinging to his sister; a racket which turned into an outraged wail when Regina released him, returning him to their da's arms. Regina made a similar moue of unhappiness, but she didn't fight as Alice gently led her toward the carriage.

As she settled into the half-dozen pillows and blankets Aderyn had arranged for her comfort, Regina glanced down at the shawl covering her dress. Jack could dress her up however he liked, but she was no Red Queen. She was still the Azure Princess; that Outlandish warrior spirit still existed somewhere within her, and she would find it again. She may not be able to wield a weapon or cause harm as a White Queen, but she could still find ways to defend herself and reclaim what was hers.

And reclaim her own she would, just as soon as she got home.

* * *

It was utterly disconcerting, how much like a stranger she felt in her own castle.

The carriage had pulled into the front courtyard a little before teatime. A surprising number of the Court had been present to welcome Regina home. Jack himself had aided Alice out with a gallant bow, handing her off to Baron Vulpez before turning to his wife. He had helped her out, then bowed over her hand and presented her with a single red rose.

"A humble gift for the woman who has everything else," he had said, pressing a kiss to her palm.

It had been a perfect performance; in her former life Jane might have swooned and compared him to Lancelot, come to woo his Guinevere. But Regina couldn't find it in her to swoon; not when Jack's eyes were so closed and unemotional, not when she immediately pricked her hand on a thorn. She closed her fist to keep from seeing the blood that welled from the cut and closed her heart to any foolish flights of fancy.

Instead, she accepted his empty gallantry with an equally empty smile. She understood the game they were playing, the charade they were enacting for their audience. He would be the gallant lover, she the lady fair; in public they would present a united front and play the happily reunited newlyweds. But he had welcomed her home as a spider lures a fly, and she was accepting the trap as a fly whose body is pumped full of poison.

Let the game of deception begin.

"Aderyn, follow the coachmen to my suite," she ordered her handmaiden. "Azalea will need your help to prepare my trunk to leave for Marmoreal."  
"Yes, milady," Aderyn nodded, looking perfectly happy for the excuse to get out of Jack's company.

As Aderyn followed the luggage into the palace, Regina let Jack lead them to the grand parlor for an elaborate tea, more than content to make small talk with her Duchesses-In-Attendance while Jack tended to her mother. Idly, Regina marveled at Alice's performance. She was smiling and laughing with her son-in-law, and seemed perfectly at ease. Considering how viciously Alice had vowed revenge against him only a week ago, it was a disconcerting change. But Regina supposed that it would cause rather a mess, were Alice to run Jack through with her teaspoon. Blood was so devilishly hard to get out of silk…

Observing his behavior, Regina supposed Jack was trying to circumvent rumors that all was not well with the Praecordiai— rather a pointless effort in Regina's opinion. Still, so long as Jack remained civil, Regina saw no reason to cause a fuss. She'd become very good at enduring; endure she would.

After the tea, Alice had excused herself, claiming she wanted a quiet evening before they departed for Marmoreal in the morning. Regina hadn't been happy about that; it left her alone with Jack, with no buffers, and she wasn't certain she was up to that just yet. But she was left with no choice, so she drew a deep breath to steel herself as Jack offered her his arm and guided her to his suite.

"I am relieved to see your health restored, my dear," Jack said as the doors closed behind them (she tried very hard not to feel as though a cage door had just locked her in).

_I'll just bet you are_, Regina thought dryly.

"Thank you," she forced herself to reply civilly. "I hope I didn't leave you with too much work while I was… incapacitated."  
"Not at all," Jack dismissed her insincere concern.  
"But I am better now," she said, testing the waters. "Well enough, I think, to relieve you of some of the burden."  
"I am delighted to hear you feel better," Jack said, slowly advancing (_stay calm, do not panic, it's not a threat…_). "But from what I understand, your ordeal took quite a toll on you, and you're still weak. I wouldn't want you to relapse because I was overeager in returning your duties to you."  
"Suppose we have the Doctor examine me and decide," she suggested.  
"Of course, of course, my dove," Jack said dismissively. "Only, I thought that perhaps it was time we focused more on us."  
"Us?" Regina asked.

Well, this was an unexpected turn in the conversation. Where exactly was he going with this?

"We've not been wed very long, but already much of our time has been spent apart," Jack said. "Hardly a way to be married, or to raise a family."  
"A family," Regina repeated blankly.

He couldn't possibly mean…

"Well, yes," Jack nodded, tilting his head and observing her with those cold grey eyes. "I would love to see our child in your arms. You would make a wonderful mother, I think. I should quite like to see you raising our children and running the castle."

_The castle, but not the queendom_, she silently finished for him.

She sank into a chair, her head beginning to spin. Good merciful heavens, was he really saying this? He wanted her to have a child? _His_ child?

"Regina?" he asked, stepping toward her.  
"I'm fine," she said quickly, holding up a hand to stave him off. "Just… A child. I hadn't thought of having children yet."  
"Well, you know we need heirs, darling," Jack said smoothly. "Surely it's not too early to start trying."

Her mind raced and whirled. She barely heard Jack when he told her to think about it, before walking toward his bathing room door and leaving her alone in the receiving room.

A child. A child? Where on earth was this coming from? Was this just a ploy, a play from Jack to keep her so occupied that she had no time or energy to take back the throne? She wouldn't put that past her husband, actually. They were already stuck with each other till merciful Death parted them, but what better way to keep her under his control than to get her pregnant?

Fates, a child. Though older than Alice had been when she married Tarrant, Regina was still younger than Alice had been when she gave birth to her first child. Od's Breech, Regina still felt like a child herself! How could she possibly be ready to give birth to a child?

But that was a lie, she reminded herself ruefully. This wasn't the first time she'd thought about having a child. It was just, until the Joust, she had rather hoped that her child would be fathered by Dafydd. Oh, she had imagined that child; so often that sometimes she thought he was real. How many times had she imagined their son's weight in her arms, his sweet baby smell, his greedy fingers and his happy smile?

She pressed her fist against her mouth to stifle the sound as she began to cry. She had wanted that little boy for so long… but she would never have him. That future had been snatched from her. No, not snatched; she herself had thrown it away. She would never bear Dafydd's son; she would give birth to Jack's. It was a bitter reminder of just how much she had sacrificed when she accepted Jack as her Betrothed; that choice meant that she had surrendered the son of her dreams. She would never know him, now, and that knowledge was enough to kill her. Burying her face in her hands, she silently sobbed, mourning the child she would never get to meet.

It took a long time to cry her last tear; the shadows were long before she sat quietly. But she had done her mourning; now it was time to think.

It was obvious that Jack wanted to get her with child to keep her out of the way. Clearly, his hope was that she would be so occupied with raising a child that she would give up all thought of trying to reclaim her right to rule.

But was there, perhaps, some advantage to having a baby? Jack had said that he wanted to see her raising their children, but he had made no mention of himself. Did he then not intend to play an active role in a child's life? If that was true, and Regina was the only real parent… She might not ever rule in her own right again. But she could rule her child. A child of Jack's would be the heir to his throne; after Jack's death, that child would rule. And she would be Queen Mother, able to influence and guide her child's reign…

The direction of her thoughts was frightening. It was cold, and callous. It meant using her child as a pawn in a long game of chess; molding and bending her flesh and blood to her will in a long-term game against that child's father. Was she willing to do such a thing, even for Crims?

The answer was almost as frightening as the question, and came terrifyingly quickly. Yes. For Crims, she would do anything. Even bear and raise Jack's child.

Swallowing hard, Regina stood and walked into Jack's bedroom. She had a game to begin.

* * *

In the depths of the Flower Bed, Zhithene shot straight up from where she'd been laying supine on a blue mushroom. For long moments the old woman stared blankly up at the winking Stars, her hookah wand dangling from her lips.

A moment later, she smiled, drawing a deep inhalation of fragrant smoke.

"Well well well," she murmured to herself, voice thick with satisfaction. "So the little Fool has overturned the Chariot, eh? Returned to the Sun and become the World at last. About time."

Cackling, Zhithene released a lungful of smoke into the chill night air.

"Welcome to the game of thrones, little butterfly."

* * *

As the carriage lurched and lumbered its way south, Jack leaned back in his seat, folding his arms as he lost himself in thought.

Things had taken a sudden turn for the unexpected, that was for damn sure.

The Plan had progressed perfectly, right up to the moment when it didn't. He wouldn't say the whole thing had derailed; that implied failure, and Jack Heart did not fail. But this was rather a hitch in operations, and couldn't possibly be ignored.

There had been no provision in the Plan for Regina recovering her health. Jack had ordered her overdosed on Emotion Tea specifically because overdose was supposed to render its victim incurably Mad. Once she was Mad, that should have been the end of the story. Jack would have kept her locked in the North Tower, kept up the grieving widower act, and continued to rule until Underland forgot there had ever been a Queen Regina.

And yet somehow, there she was, detoxed from the Teas and supposedly recovered. Or as recovered as someone with the tainted Hightopp blood could ever be, anyways. She was sickly-looking and frail, but she was sane.

That wasn't part of the Plan.

But, Jack reminded himself sternly, there was no use in being upset about it after the fact. Children pouted and whinged about unexpected upsets. Rulers turned the unexpected to their advantage.

There had to be advantages in Regina's return. To his amazement, when he had walked into his bedroom last night, Regina had been there, and agreed to his proposal to try for a child. She had docilely submitted to him, even been more responsive than she had been in the grips of the Tea Sickness. Surely bearing him a child or two would keep her bound to him, and prevent her scheming. After all, they had a duty to preserve the Praecordian dynasty. And he would of course ensure that any child would be carefully raised to ensure that none of its Hightopp eccentricities would rear; none of its mother's influence in his child!

In addition to needing an heir (and a spare), the land had fallen ill when Regina had. Perhaps her recovery would trigger an answering resurgence in Crims? That could only be counted a positive; there was no fun in being King of a dead land.

It was the economic downturn and failure of productivity that had brought Jack to the Tulgey Wood, on Crims' southern border, in the first place. The parts of the Tumtum tree were among Crims' biggest exports— the leaves for clothing fiber, the nuts for food, the bark for paper, the sap for medicine, the wood for building. And with Crims being so sick, the forest was suffering. Since Regina had returned to Marmoreal for the Meeting of the Deck, Jack had traveled to deal with this.

After all, as far as the people knew, he and Regina were a team.

As the carriage drew to a halt, Jack disembarked and shook the hand of Cecil Longtree, whose family had been in charge of the community of Tumtum foresters for generations.

"Longtree," he nodded in greeting.  
"Gratitude for coming yourself instead of sending an agent, Sire," Cecil said.  
"Of course," Jack dismissed the man's thanks. "I've been worried about the reports I've seen. What seems to be the problem?"

Cecil herded Jack away, reiterating the tale of the trees not producing sap and paying no attention to the two chattering stable boys who took charge of the royal carriage. Had Jack been paying attention, he'd have seen the provisions being swapped out with bags of rotten apples, or the horses' harnesses being tampered with.

The Carpenter's Toolbox worked best in Jack's blind spots.

By the time Jack and Cecil had completed the tour and discussed all the methods that could be employed to nurse the trees back to health, the sun was setting. Cecil immediately offered his hospitality for the evening, which Jack accepted. As he led the Usurper to his home, Cecil grinned to himself; his husband Carlos knew some very tasty mushroom dishes, and it could be so difficult to remember exactly which varieties caused violent illness. Just severe enough to delay the Usurper's travels for a few days, to buy Her Majesty time to return safely to Crims, and re-establish her connection with the Heart. Maybe someday the Carpenter would arrange for the Usurper's demise; until then, the Toolbox would make Jack the unluckiest man in Underland.

Long live the Queen.

* * *

"You're sure you don't mind me not coming, my dove?" Jack asked for the seventh time. "It seems ridiculous that you only got home yesterday, and you're already leaving again. I could put this trip off, and come with you."  
"Of course you mustn't come, Jack," Regina replied, watching as the footmen finished packing her luggage into the carriage. "You have business down south that can't be delayed. I would hate to keep you from it. I will be just fine on my own."

She grinned up at Jack, praying he didn't read just how anxious she was to be rid of him, and free of the castle that was no longer her home. Jack's mandates wouldn't be able to touch her in Marmoreal; when she got to the White Palace she would be free to act like herself again.

"Come now, Jack, kiss your wife and let us be off," Alice called as Baron Vulpez handed her into her carriage.  
"Very well, Alice," Jack conceded. "Give the Queens my regards."  
"I will," Regina nodded as Jack helped her into the carriage. "I'll be home in a week or so."  
"Aderyn, take good care of your mistress," Jack commanded the little handmaid.  
"Of course, sire," the girl nodded, bobbing a quick curtsey before hurrying into the carriage. "I'll bring her home safely."  
"Safe travels," Jack said, stepping back as the carriage took off.

As soon as the royal carriages rolled out of the palace courtyard, Regina sighed in relief, slumping in her seat.

"Finally," she whispered. "I thought I'd never get out."

Shivering, she hunched over, curling into herself as she felt her temperature begin to drop. Fates, was she really doing this? Had she really consented to bear Jack's child? They hadn't slept most of last night; Jack seemed determined to impregnate her as soon as possible. Just thinking about it made her feel sick; every moment had felt like a betrayal of Dafydd, of the dream of her son. Could she really go through with this?

But how could she do anything else? Jack had completely taken over her throne and her castle. Regina had been rendered useless, irrelevant. She was trapped in a loveless marriage, wed to a King but with no power of her own as Queen. She had thrown away her only chance for happiness in a bid for power, and she would pay for that mistake for the rest of her life. Her only chance to correct her mistakes was to raise a child to reclaim the throne from Jack; every other hope and dream had to be abandoned now.

Regina shuddered and rocked herself, trying to block out her growing doubts, the mounting confusion. Why was she doubting herself like this? Curse her out of control emotions, they weren't helping anything. She'd made her decisions. She was going to fight for her throne. There was no room for doubt in this plan, and she tried to shake it off, to focus on her next move. She was going to have to deal with Jack, and come to peace with the idea of bearing his heir. She needed to rebuild her power base, and she needed to charm Jack into complacency or somehow subvert and undermine his influence so she could reassert herself as rightful Queen. None of that could be done if she continued to allow herself to doubt her ability to pull this off.

"Easy, milady," Aderyn's voice floated through the haze. "Everything's alright."  
"Fine," she forced herself to say. "I'm fine."  
Aderyn graced Regina with a singularly unimpressed Look. "You're a terrible liar, milady."

Regina sighed in resignation and submitted to her little maid swaddling her in a nest of pillows, draping a warm carriage blanket over her lap and chafing her frozen, trembling fingers.

"You really should try to rest," Aderyn told her. "You look like you didn't sleep well last night."  
"I don't know if I can," Regina confessed ruefully.  
"Try, at least," the young maid commanded. "I'll wake you before we get to Marmoreal."

With a monumental effort, Regina reigned in her rampaging thoughts and focused on the task at hand. The Meeting of the Deck would be safe; no Jack, no scheming. Just the four Queens, all of whom Regina could trust with her life. All her worries about Jack and Crims could bide for now; she had another Jabberwock to slay.

But for now, rest. She closed her eyes, allowing the rocking of the carriage to lull her to sleep while her little handmaid looked on.

As she watched her Queen sink into a deep but uneasy sleep, Aderyn shook her head, biting her lip. Before they'd left Tearmunn, the ceann-fine had drawn her aside and impressed upon her how important it was to take care of the Queen.

"She'll fight you," Lord Dafydd had said, scratching at his beard. "She's terrible at taking care of herself, and stubborn to boot. But if I have to let her leave, then I need to know that someone will keep an eye on her for me."

Aderyn had given her lord her solemn promise to do her best for her mistress. And Regina had wasted no time in proving Dafydd's point.

Aderyn didn't know exactly what had gone on between Regina and King Jack last night. But whatever it was, it had the Queen upset and uneasy this morning. Granted, she had been upset since they'd left Hatsfield yesterday. But when Aderyn had checked in on Regina after the Court's tea party, she had seemed calm enough. Then she and Jack had disappeared into the King's suite, and… And now Regina was pale and upset and on edge again.

She knew, thanks to Azalea (who was a lovely, comfortable, motherly lady) and her own powers of observation, that Regina was afraid of Jack. Was he already back to his old tricks? If so, was there anything the Carpenter and his Toolbox could do about it? Could Regina be smuggled out of the castle to safety? There might be no way of breaking the marriage, but surely living separately would be better for all involved, wouldn't it?

For now, though, let the Queen sleep. Perhaps Regina was right, and she could find a way to turn the situation in Crims back to her advantage. And before she could restore her queendom, she needed to re-gather her strength. Nodding to herself, Aderyn leaned back in her seat. She might not be able to protect Regina from Jack. But she could help the Queen heal.

* * *

Given what a rare and august occasion a Suit Meeting was, Regina had expected rather more pomp and ceremony. The Shuffling of the Deck occurred maybe once in a generation, but the four Queens weren't meeting in a throne room or even a Council chamber. They weren't garbed in their most expensive gowns and jewels; they didn't even wear their crowns. Instead, the four women sat around a tea table, sipping a new blend of Regina's— a mix of rose, lilac, morning glory, and lily which she'd appropriately dubbed Tsarina— and trading stories of their queendoms and their husbands.

"I declare, the Kings' Hunt is the best holiday ever devised in the history of Underland," Lamia said complacently as she chose a scone. "I can't imagine why we ever allowed the practice to lapse!"  
"I believe Tarrant and I are at fault for that," Alice said ruefully. "Madness doesn't lend itself to hunting."  
"Ah well. I'm pleased we're going to revive it," Lamia smiled. "Do let's not abandon it again."  
"Indeed not," Lily grinned. "I think it'll be good for them to get out and socialize. Ioan will be sorry he missed it."  
"It was kind of your Jack to invite the men Jubjub hunting," Lamia said, patting Regina's hand. "My Shep has been pestering everyone for years about how he wished he could have a shot at it. It used to drive your poor father quite to his wits' end," Lamia laughed, nodding at Lily.  
"I remember," Lily said with a misty smile.

A moment of silence befell the garden as they were all reminded why there would be no more hunting trips for Kalen. Regina squeezed Lily's hand as Lily's gaze drifted towards the white marble mausoleum where Mirana and Kalen had been interred.

"How exactly is this supposed to work?" Regina abruptly changed the subject.

She felt Lily squeeze her fingers in thanks, and she briefly pressed them in return. She couldn't imagine how Lily was bearing up beneath the pressure. Regina was sure she would have long gone Mad, if she'd lost her parents to poison and had to send Abraxas away because she didn't even know who, if anyone, she could trust.

"Every batch of Queens does it differently, so the stories say," Lamia mused. "I believe the last Queens settled the question with a chess tournament."  
"I don't think we need to make it so complicated," Lily frowned. "Why not give the crown to the tallest of us?"  
"Lil, _you're_ the tallest of us," Regina pointed out.  
"Am I?" Lily asked, furrowing her brow. "Oh. Well then, I take it back. I don't want it."  
"Nor do I," Regina said quickly. "I'm barely a Queen as it is; I've no desire to barely rule all of Wonderland."  
"But you're the young ones!" Lamia exclaimed. "You've more energy than we do."  
"I would argue the point, but I haven't the stamina," Regina quipped, though the shadows beneath her eyes supported her statement.  
"So that leaves Alice or Lamia," Lily grinned.  
"Oh good gracious," Lamia grumbled, leaning back in her seat. "Alice, have you ever seen such shiftless Queens? No sense of responsibility!"  
"Don't they remind you of us?" Alice smiled.  
"Yes, I suppose they do," Lamia admitted. "Underland help us."  
"You take it, Lamia," Alice said. "You've been ruling the longest of us."  
"I suppose that does give me some superiority," Lamia nodded. "Just enough, in fact, to state that if any of us should be High Queen, it would be you."  
"Excuse me?" Alice spluttered.  
"Well of course," Lamia continued, nodded. "If not for you, Champion, there wouldn't even _be_ an Underland anymore."  
"If not for you, I wouldn't be here, period," Regina smiled faintly. "No one's done more for Wonderland than you, Mama."  
"Well, I… but I was only…" Alice stuttered.  
"No buts," Lily said firmly. "We all three owe our crowns to you, Alice, it's only logic that you become High Queen. And even if you don't agree, it's three against one and you're overruled. We dub thee High Queen Alice of Underland."

Could it really be so simple, Regina wondered. There was no strike of lightning or heavenly chord; there wasn't even a breeze, or a single sign Underland had heard them. And yet, she knew it to be True in the depths of her bones. Alice was High Queen. No longer Alice _in_ Wonderland; she was now always and forever, completely and utterly Alice _of_ Wonderland. Regina couldn't imagine a better ending for her mother's story; the child who'd explored and the girl who'd rescued was now the woman who'd rule.

"I… I suppose I… oh bullocks," Alice sighed helplessly as she slumped back in her chair, earning a startled giggle from Regina. "You're all of you colossally unfair and I should hate you all."  
"You're not allowed to hate me," Regina scoffed. "I'm the light of your life."  
"You can't hate me either, I'm too much like my mother and you loved my mother," Lily grinned.  
"You're more than welcome to hate me, dear," Lamia said, patting Alice's hand. "I daresay it's quite exciting to be hated."

* * *

It was a beautiful day, considering it was the latter half of February and not yet spring. Though still quite chill, there was a promise of warmth and spring in the damp air. The sun was hiding behind cloud cover, but overall the weather was preferable to the unpleasant, bone-chilling cold of late.

Unfortunately, Tarrant didn't have a thought to spare for the weather, or really for anything at all other than the dizzying, daft, delightful, dreadful, daunting news he'd been given an hour prior.

The four Queens of the Deck had named Alice Caroline Kingsleigh Clava-Hightopp, the Blue Queen of the Clubs, as High Queen of Underland.

It was monumental news; a miracle. The lost little Aboveground girl, who'd had such a temper upon their first meeting… the not-much-older lass who'd won a crown, only to leave it behind… the delightful, determined young woman who had defeated a Jabberwock and utterly conquered his heart… his own beloved Absolutely Alice, his wife, the mother of his children, his queen and his banríon… How utterly fitting that the Once and Always Champion had become the ruler of the land she had saved time and time again.

It was monstrous news; a malarkey. Being a High Queen required so very much Time; Time that Alice didn't have. She had sacrificed so much Time already. Their children were _made_ of Alice's Time. And now she was offering the rest of it to a land that surely she owed nothing further to.

How quickly would Underland eat up Alice's Time, Tarrant wondered, pained. And what in all the worlds would he do when her Time was up? He didn't know if he would be allowed to follow her; Time, after all, was quite frozen for him. Would he remain behind forever, with no hope of ever joining his Alice in the Otherworld?

_No_, he snarled to himself as he stalked through the forest surrounding Tearmunn. Such a Fate wasn't to be borne. There had to be some way to avert such an unbearable future…

"Really Hatter, must you pace? To spend your Time in such a way seems a waste."

Tarrant paused, frowning at the strange, singsong cadence.

"Since when do you speak in rhyme, Witzend?" he asked, turning and seeking out the Cat.

To Tarrant's not-inconsiderable knowledge, no one had seen the Cheshire for months now. Had they been discussing Witzend's predecessor, Tarrant would have been unconcerned; Chessur had been known for vanishing for months or years at a time, out on business of his own. But this was Witzend, Regina's beloved former pet. Witzend had until recently always kept close tabs on her Mistress; it was unlike her to vanish with no word, especially given Regina's delicate condition.

Upon spying the blue-striped grey Cat lying in a tree branch, Tarrant's brow furrowed. She didn't look much different, really, except for her eyes. The Cheshire's eyes seemed to be swirling, making and breaking patterns like a kaleidoscope. It looked like…

"Madness," he muttered.  
Witzend giggled, her grin stretching her face. "Time's had his fun breaking my mind," she confirmed. "I think I'd like to break him in kind. Now, how long has it been? Has Absolutely Alice become the High Queen?"  
"Aye, she has," Tarrant grimly nodded.  
"And a saner Queen shall never again be seen," Witzend declared. "Such a pity her Time's running out. Is that a thing you would do something about?"  
Tarrant stiffened, feeling a thrum of tension flood his veins. "Is there a way?"  
"Is there a way," she scoffed. "Of course there is, if you're willing to pay."  
"Anything," Tarrant rashly promised. "Any price I can."

Witzend grinned again, and leapt from the tree onto Tarrant's shoulders. Before he could react, the world dissolved around him, dancing and distorting like the futures trapped in the Cat's eyes.

He groaned as the world reconstituted itself, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to stave off the pounding headache.

"Breathe," Witzend said, nipping his ear before gracefully leaping to the ground. "I shouldn't like for you to heave."

Tarrant shot her a dirty Look, but forbore comment in favor of looking around.

There were gears and cogs and pins interlocked, but stationery. There was a deafening, profound silence; he knew there should be sound, but for the life of him, he couldn't recall what that sound should be.

"Where are we, Cat?" Tarrant questioned.  
Witzend scoffed again, licking her paw. "You needn't get cross just coz you don't recognize the insides of your own watch."  
"The-"

Tarrant fumbled for the frozen, useless pocket watch he kept in his waistcoat, only to find it missing. Nonplussed, he looked about again; why would the Cheshire bring him into a watch?

"Tarrant Hightopp."

Upon hearing the voice— tight, cold, and seething with fury— Tarrant indulged in a hearty groan, throwing his head back.

"Why?" he asked the Cat. "Why would you bring me to him?"  
Witzend stared at him blankly. "And who else could possibly be of use to help you with time, you daft goose?"

Grumbling, Tarrant turned, squaring his shoulders and facing his old enemy.

The old man didn't look especially well; this was mostly due to the fact that he was trapped within a cloudy, crystalline cocoon, veins of gold threading within the murky depths. The prison distorted his face and restricted his movements, but his voice was entirely unimpeded.

"You're late," he snapped. "I've been expecting you since tomorrow."

Good gracious, he'd forgotten the confusing way the old man spoke, mixing tenses as though they were all the same. Which, to him, they were.

"Isn't it hard for you to do much of anything, since you think you're dead and all?" Tarrant snapped back, folding his arms.  
"I am dead, you murderer!" the old man yelped. "Or have you not noticed that I am _imprisoned_ _in your pocket watch_?!"  
"I did not kill you, you clobberheaded fool!" Tarrant glared. "Here you are, alive and well!"  
"I would try to speak with less malice," the Cat chimed in. "Since you're here on behalf of your Alice."

Kicking the chrysalis in frustration, Tarrant exhaled in a violent huff and backed away, running an agitated hand over his face.

"Yes, do take your time," the old man said snidely. "Oh, I forgot. You can't, can you?"  
"Why you-"

Before Tarrant could charge the old man, Witzend snapped his hand with sharp teeth, floating up to glare at him.

"Play nice," she ordered. "You shan't have a chance to ask twice."

Tarrant huffed again, but nodded, tightly clenching his fists as he approached the trapped old man.

"I need your help," he said gruffly.  
He laughed. "Of course you do. Never could hold onto me to save your life."  
"My life isn't the issue," he said. "It's my wife, Alice."  
"Alice?" the old man frowned, the crystal prison warping his face into something ugly. "For shame, Hatter. Alice is just a child! Oh, and a marvelous Queen she shall be, as was her child after her. Poor dear, they'll both died too young," he said suddenly. "It's my David should be on the throne now, not that idiotic usurper who called herself a Heart-"

Tarrant swallowed hard, dreading to hear Alice's and Regina's deaths mentioned so casually.

"That's why I'm here," he said. "Alice hasn't the Time to be High Queen."  
"I know, she's giving it to me," the old man sighed happily. "And forced me to give it to her children. She is a mean thing. I expect this means you wanted me to give your time to her?"  
"Can you?" Tarrant asked.  
The old man scoffed. "How can I? You trapped me! But if I recall correctly, I will make a deal with you. You release me, and I took all that time you would have lived without Alice and give it to her. The pair of you died in the same instant."  
Tarrant raised an eyebrow. "And how am I supposed to free you?"  
The old man huffed. "Stupid boy, don't you remember? You've only just been about to do it! This stupid song you've bound me in!" he exclaimed, banging on his crystalline prison. "Release me from this ridiculous time signature!"  
"It wasn't ridiculous!" Tarrant protested. "How did you get trapped in there, anyway?"  
"You never finished the song!" the old man huffed.  
"Od's Breech, Bluddy Begh Hid had sentenced me to death!" Tarrant exclaimed. "You try singing with your neck on a chopping block."  
"Less talking, more singing," the old man said testily.  
"It's been years!" Tarrant protested. "I don't remember where I left off!"  
"Gah!" the old man exclaimed in frustration, banging on the chrysalis again.

All of a sudden, Tarrant was surrounded by the sound of his own voice— noticeably younger and more carefree, but obviously his— singing that ill-fated song from so long ago.

_Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at…_

His voice cut off suddenly, jarringly, and Tarrant knew what must now be done. Drawing a deep breath, he began to sing.

_Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at  
Up above the world you fly like a tea-tray in the sky  
Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at_

The instant he sang the final note, there was a blinding golden light, a deafening crack. The world spun and exploded—

"Brimini," Tarrant groaned, reeling. "What in the blazes-"

He opened his eyes cautiously, feeling nauseas. Something big and blue spun overhead, and he lay on something cold and unyielding. Groaning, he hitched himself up onto his elbow.

"Slowly," he heard the Cheshire dimly through the ringing in his ears. "You'll feel quite strange now your time's flowing again."

Blinking rapidly to orient himself, Tarrant sat up, blinking at the pieces of the twisted, hot metal that skittered off his torso.

"What-?"  
"Time broke his prison," the Cat informed him. "But your request's been given."  
"It worked?" Tarrant asked warily.  
"Your time was given to your wife," the Cat nodded. "Your days traded to lengthen her life."  
Tarrant sighed in relief, nodding and laying back down. "Good. That's good," he said wearily.  
"Stupid man, you can't sleep in the snow," the Cheshire exclaimed, batting at his Hat. "Back to the High House you go!"

She left him no time before transmogrifying him into the High House. Groaning, Tarrant clutched his stomach as he staggered for the nearest Necessary so he could empty his stomach in peace. He feared he would never recover from such an unpleasant mode of travel…

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: The old man is played by John Hurt at his very most irate. Because why not.


	6. Reclamation

**Author's Note**: I'm not terribly happy with this chapter. It's a bit of a Frankenstein; the various scenes and POVs have been scavenged from about four different drafts – not only of this chapter, but bits of other scenes that were ultimately scrapped. So when I read it, all I see are the seams and rocky transitions. But my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 tells me that it reads much more smoothly than I think it does, so I decided to go ahead and post it rather than try to edit it any further.

**Disclaimer**: Any resemblance of the Keymaster to the book descriptions of Dumbledore is entirely coincidental and you cannot prove I did it on purpose.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my beta for the encouragement for this ridiculous beast of a chapter!

* * *

As the carriage lumbered towards Isla Affalin, Regina huddled deeper into the fur blanket Alice had lovingly tucked around her when she left Marmoreal after the proclamation of Alice's ascension to High Queen. Despite the fur and her warm wool traveling dress, as the palace winked on the horizon Regina couldn't prevent a shudder of dread.

Sobriety was still a new feeling, and she hadn't quite recovered the knack of controlling her emotions. On a good day, she was only able to be around other people for three or four hours before requiring a nap. On bad days— which were still frequent— nothing could soothe her out of the resulting episode of Chill and Madness but the smell of bergamot and cloves, or to be wrapped in a linen tunic that had once belonged to her erstwhile Champion while she lay in bed, buried under blankets that couldn't stop her shaking.

But she was going to have to relearn how survive constant bombardment and surveillance, and quickly, and without the aid of any of her props. She had a queendom to rescue from her husband, and to do that she needed to be both sane and in complete control of herself.

Regina knew her family disapproved of her decision to return to Isla Affalin. Lily had repeated that she'd rather Regina go to Dafydd. Tarrant had alluded that might be the best option, pointedly remarking that Regina had suites in both Berserka and Tearmunn kept ready for her. Even Alice had suggested that she needn't return to Crims just yet, that she was welcome to come home to Berserka until she felt well enough to return to her throne. Brax had just pouted at her and said "No" every time her plans to return home were mentioned.

Regina appreciated her family's concern for her, truly. But she knew she couldn't take their advice. Crims needed her, and to be honest, she needed Crims as well. No, there was no choice but to return to Isla Affalin.

As far as her marriage itself, Regina was rather more ambivalent about saving it. After all, Jack had threatened Dafydd's life twice now. And had he exhibited even the slightest bit of concern about her well-being during the nearly five weeks she had spent convalescing since the night of Lily's Queenmaking? No, he had not. So why should she concern herself with him? It would be easy enough to avoid him in the palace; as long as they maintained a veneer of civility during meals and public events, perhaps they could endure a lifetime of marriage without killing each other.

She set her plan into motion as soon as a footman stepped forward to aid her out of the carriage. Nodding her thanks to the footman, she beckoned to Bounder, one of her Labrador pages.

"Welcome home, your Majesty!" Bounder greeted her, dancing around her.  
"Hello Bounder," Regina nodded. "Where is my lord husband?"  
"The King is in the audience hall and will be until this evening, my lady," the Labrador replied. "Shall I tell him you're home?"  
"Please," Regina nodded. "And I'd like to take tea in my solar. Please invite Duchess Contrary to join me in an hour."  
"Yes, your Majesty!" Bounder barked, wagging his tail before trotting off to deliver the summons.

Nodding, Regina left the footmen to take care of the luggage, and walked up the stairs into the castle, looking at her surroundings with fresh eyes. She frowned in displeasure at the black and white tiles, geometric patterns on the walls, and minimalist décor; she couldn't wait to change all of this. Had the Tea really blinded her so much that she hadn't noticed how awful her palace looked? How could Jack have changed the castle so quickly?

Resolving to hunt down the answer to that mystery later, Regina strode through the castle as quickly as she could on her ridiculous shoes. After her third stumble, she snarled with impatience and bent down, stripping them off her feet and padding barefoot through the halls. She raised her arm to throw the shoes as far away as she could, only to have someone grab her wrist and stop her.

"Easy, milady," Aderyn's voice came softly and from far away. "Why don't you hand the shoes to me?"  
Huffing, Regina handed them over, blinking back the encroaching Madness. "How on earth did Jack expect me to walk in these?"  
"One foot in front of the other, I expect," Aderyn answered.  
"Ugh," Regina said expressively. "Could you take those far, far away? Far enough that I never see them again?"  
"Of course, milady," Aderyn nodded. "Shall I find you a better pair, as well?"  
"I'd rather go barefoot again," Regina said.  
Aderyn gave her a Look. "You'll do no such thing, milady, not in this cold. Your husband would have my head if I let you get sick. Now come on, let's get to your rooms and do something about this shoe problem."

Regina nodded, and allowed herself to be led back to her suite of rooms. When the door opened, Azalea bobbed a curtsey, and Regina frowned.

"Where's Clover?"  
Azalea rose slowly, her face falling. "She's been gone for almost seven weeks, lamb. Disappeared without a trace or a word."  
Regina's frown deepened. "That can't be right. That's not like Clover at all. We'll have to find her. Perhaps she's gotten lost among the bath salts." Shaking her head, she refocused. "Do I have any clothes that aren't red? Preferably something that's not this short, either. I've not felt like myself in weeks, I want my things back."  
"Most of it was lost when the castle changed itself, or when Master Crosstitch got his hands on your wardrobe," Azalea replied. "But your lord father sent a portmanteau with some of your clothing from Hatsfield."  
"Let's have a look, then," Regina said, sighing in relief.

She led the charge into the dressing room and threw open the doors on the first of the five armoires. Her large eyes narrowing, she began ripping clothes off the hangers, tossing everything she didn't like into an unceremonious heap on the floor. All of the "gowns" that were too short, too tight, too revealing… the trousers… the monstrous shoes… Regina took a vicious pleasure in ridding her closets of the awful things she'd been forced into. Azalea, and Aderyn after she fetched Regina a pair of fur-lined slippers, were quick to get into the act, and soon Regina's armoires stood completely bare. There was a large pile of clothing on the floor, and a small pile of things that weren't so bad on the chaise lounge, with her athair's portmanteau resting alongside.

"Right," Regina said. "Get rid of all of that," she stated, pointing to the mess on the floor. "Give them to the Court Ladies, to the nearby towns, sell them, burn them, I don't care. I never want to see them again. These we can hang back up," she added, nodding towards the chaise lounge and portmanteau. "I'd like to meet with Arianrhod tomorrow morning to design a new wardrobe."  
"What about Master Crosstitch?" Azalea asked, her pleasant face unusually canny.  
Regina made a face. "Jack's toady will never dress me again. I've let this madness go on long enough. Now, I'm planning on causing some trouble, so I'd like to look beautiful for once."  
"Lamb, you can make a potato sack look lovely," Azalea said loyally, sorting through the small amount of clothing left on the chaise.  
Regina wrinkled her nose. "Please don't tell me that's one of my options."

Shaking her head, Regina sent Aderyn down to the gardens to fetch a sprig of bergamot flowers for her hair while Azalea found something for her to wear. The gown she chose was lightweight and just flirted with the floor. Her shoulders were modestly covered with cap sleeves, and she adored the empire waist so much that she forgave the neckline that plunged lower than she liked. The empire waist and hem were both embroidered; all in all, the gown resembled a Regency-era tea dress. Best of all, it wasn't red; it was a muted shade of sea green that set off her pale skin and reddish hair to perfection, and even made the white locks liberally sprinkled throughout her mane look graceful and elegant. How had this gown ended up in her closet?

"I honestly have no idea where this came from," Azalea frowned. "I've certainly never seen it before."  
"Wait. What's this?" Aderyn asked from where she knelt fiddling with the hem of the dress, a knowing smile in her voice.

She stood and held out a small, folded card. Regina frowned; how had she not noticed that? Curiously, she opened the card, staring at the symbol etched in purple ink on the rough paper. It looked like a T, and the long vertical bar had tiny marks…

"A carpenter's square," she said hesitantly. "What does it mean?"  
"Do you not know, milady?" Aderyn asked, flat-out grinning. "The Carpenter is a rebel, an outlaw. The rumors say he's an exiled noble who was wronged by King Jack, and now he's fighting to protect the people from the King's tyranny."  
"Like Robin Hood," Regina said, her voice far away.

So that was what her Champion was up to these days. He'd been frustratingly vague about the Fearail's plans, but she probably should have been able to connect the dots. Dafydd had always loved her tales of Robin Hood… The thought brought tears to her eyes, even as the unbidden hope painfully crushed her heart. What had she ever done to deserve his love? And why was he still fighting for her, when there was no future for them?

She fingered the chain on which their Heart Rock was strung; the pendant was hidden beneath her neckline, barely. Her romance may be over, but she wasn't taking the token off again, no matter what Jack might think of it. If he even noticed it. Really, she doubted he could even recall what color her eyes were; it wasn't as though he paid her any attention in the daytime and it was hard to see anything at night. He would likely never notice the little trinket she wore, much less think to ask her what it meant.

"There now, you look like yourself again," Azalea smiled as Aderyn pinned Regina's hair up and tucked the spray of bergamot into her curls.  
"Thank you," Regina nodded, smiling sadly as she inhaled the scent of bergamot that floated about her. "Will you please unpack my things and sort them too? I'm off to tea."  
"Just a second," Aderyn restrained her, wrapping a soft cashmere shawl in a beautiful shade of lavender around her shoulders. "Don't want you catching cold. Laird Tarrant's orders," she explained.

With that, her faithful maids stepped back, allowing her to head out the door while they turned to deal with the wreckage of her wardrobe.

Regina hummed to herself as she walked through the halls, and when she realized that she was humming she stopped dead in her tracks. She was humming. Dafydd used to tease her and mockingly complain that she hummed everywhere she went, that he never had to pay too much attention to where she was because he could just follow her humming like so many breadcrumbs. How long had it been since she hummed absently to herself, she wondered? How much of herself had been suppressed by the Teas? How much had she allowed Jack to take from her?

That idea made her angry, and she had to massage her temples and close her eyes and count back from eighty-seven to calm back down before she brushed too close to her Madness again. This wasn't the time for Madness, and this wasn't the time for anger. What was done was done; she couldn't undo the past. Now was the time to turn everything around and correct the damage that had been done, and to do that she had to be clear-headed. She couldn't get angry about the past, not when she had to protect the future.

It wasn't suppressing her emotions, she argued with the voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her athair's disapproval. She acknowledged exactly how she was feeling. Now was simply not the time to indulge in those emotions. She had a task to complete; she could be angry later, when she had the time and privacy to indulge in it.

Shaking her head, Regina set her feet moving and purposefully started humming again. It felt good to hum, to reclaim that little piece of herself. Every piece of herself that she found was like a little treasure, a small gift to herself. She wanted to gather every one of those lost pieces back to herself. She might not ever be able to be the same person she'd been before this ordeal, but perhaps she could rebuild herself into someone new, someone better. She could, perhaps, take all of those shards of herself, hug them and cradle them and piece herself back together and never, _ever_ let herself get lost again.

And she promised herself that she would do so. But first, she had a tea party to attend.

In short order, Regina found herself in the solarium, which she had intended for a retreat when winter weather made the gardens untenable. She looked around at the lilac bushes that had been pruned within an inch of their lives, the boring patterns of violently blood-red roses, the red cobblestone paths, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste. Jack had completely missed the point of having a garden. Then again, she wasn't surprised. Jack hated secrecy, hated not knowing every detail of everything. Of course he'd design a garden where there was nowhere to hide.

Thanking her lucky stars that she could still disappear into her apple orchards when Jack's sense of décor was too much to deal with, Regina headed for the tea table situated amidst the roses, waving Mary off as the Duchess began to rise.

"There you are!" Mary exclaimed. "Silly girl, you're late. We've been waiting ages for you."  
"My apologies," Regina smiled as they settled into their seats. "Who is 'we'?"  
"The Royal Flush," Mary answered as Regina poured the tea. "They don't know they're called that, of course, but that doesn't make the name less true."  
"What is the Royal Flush?" Regina asked, intrigued.  
"It's your resistance," Mary said proudly. "All the Nobles who support you over Jack. We haven't really done much; we've been waiting for you to get home. But they're ready as soon as I give the word."

Regina smiled tremulously, blinking back tears as she was inundated by a wave of Gratitude. She had thought she would be utterly alone in her quest to retake her throne; it was encouraging that she still had the support of some of her Nobles.

"_Thank you_, Mary," she whispered, hardly able to force the words out past the lump in her throat.  
"So what is your plan?" Mary asked, drawing Regina back into the present.  
Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter and refocused. "At one point, I had hoped to retake the throne for myself. But that doesn't really seem possible anymore. Jack's too strong."  
"Mmm. He does have a pretty good stranglehold on everyone," Mary agreed.  
Regina nodded. "But if I were to have a child… Jack's child, his heir…"  
"Oh," Mary breathed in understanding. "Use the child to rule from behind the throne."  
Regina inclined her head. "I think it's my best chance," she said ruefully.  
"It's mercenary," Mary declared. "It's perfect. Even the Nobles who don't support you would support Jack's heir."  
"That's what I'd hoped," Regina said. "It's a long game, but-"  
"Those are the best kind," Mary cut in. "And it's the best way to get Jack to concede to smaller changes in the meantime. I think it might just work. It'll be very hard for you," she said suddenly.  
Regina grimaced in acknowledgement. "It's for the greater good."  
Mary shook her head. "You've got a stronger stomach than I. Now, tell me all about Marmoreal…"

Regina happily accepted the change of subject, throwing herself into enjoying her tea with her dearest friend in Crims. Knowing she had Mary's support and help with the Court made her feel much better about her plans. Perhaps this was possible after all.

And all she had to do other than reclaim her throne was, apparently, avoid eggs, she thought as she frowned and pushed the platter away. Oh, those smelled vile.

* * *

Regina never slept during the nights she shared Jack's bed. In the beginning, she would suffer through his mindless, pleasureless rutting, wait for him to nod off, and spend the rest of the night in her bathtub in a desperate attempt to feel clean again. She didn't bother with that now; she was resigned to the fact that no matter how long she sat in the water, she would never feel cleansed of Jack's touch. Nowadays, she would bathe just long enough to wash away the fluids. Then she would tend to the bruises and florid marks he'd left on her skin, before earmarking clothing to wear the next morning that would hide the damage. That done, she would pass silently into the sitting room, and spend her hours reading anything she could get her hands on. Plays, myths, novels, history, laws; whatever she could find in the Library.

Jack never lingered in the morning; indeed, he barely spared a glance for her as he strode out the door. The instant he was gone, Azalea would strip the bed, removing all signs that he'd ever been there, before handing Regina a pillow infused with the scents of bergamot and cloves. She would close and lock the bedroom door, curl up with her pillow, and sleep until it was time to make her daily appearance at Court.

Regina had gotten very used to this routine in the five weeks since she had returned home. Despite the fact that she was Queen, no one had really paid much attention to her for months because of her Madness, and so no one commented on the hours she kept now that she was (mostly) sane again.

Last night had been another such night. It was worse now, somehow, now that she was enduring these nights (somewhat) willingly and sane. She may have been willing to bear Jack's child, but she was rather less enthusiastic about actually conceiving the baby. After all, even if Jack had been more attentive than usual, he was no Dafydd. How many more times would she have to submit to this before she was safely pregnant and could escape her marital bed?

Regina managed to keep her composure, barely, as Jack strode out onto the balcony, tying the sash of his robe before sitting at the breakfast table. She inclined her head in greeting, even as beneath the table she gingerly touched the finger-shaped bruises around her wrists.

In general, the King and Queen of Hearts didn't spend very much time together outside of the boudoir. She supposed that would have to change, now; at least until the child was conceived. She needed to keep Jack from being suspicious of her, and she needed to relearn the lay of the land. To do that, they had to spend time together.

Regina wondered if having to spend time with her husband was worse than having to submit to him at night.

It was a relief when Jack ignored her, turning his attention to his eggs and his paperwork. Regina drew slow, deep breaths to combat the queasiness that always seemed to accompany the smell of eggs now, mixing herself another cup of tea and adjusting the gaping opening of her robe. Once she'd settled the slippery fabric down and steeped her tea, she opened a book of poetry she'd borrowed from the Library. So lost in the delightfully pastoral romantic poetry of Unfer the Bald was she that she gasped and jumped when Jack broke the silence.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he announced. "Shepard, Tarrant, the Queastian Sharafs and I are going Jubjub hunting."  
"I see," Regina said thoughtfully. "How long will you be gone?"  
"It shouldn't be longer than a week," Jack shrugged. "Perhaps less. I intend to bag a bird and bring it back to the castle. I'll train it into a protector for you."  
"I see," she murmured, biting her lip. "I… thank you, Jack. It… would be a comfort to have a protector, for the times when you aren't near."

Regina remembered her athair's stories of the insane, murderous Jubjub bird, and the atrocities it had committed in Iracebeth's name. The fact that Jack intended that creature to protect her was rather terrifying. She would really rather just have her Bonded Champion back, but she didn't even bother trying to tell Jack that; it was far too late for Dafydd to return to Court. Honestly, she didn't trust a Jubjub bird not to murder her rather than protect her, but what could she do? She had to pick and choose her battles; this one had to be discarded in favor of larger fights.

One of those larger fights was being presented to her right now. All things considered, a week was not very much time. Still, miracles had been wrought in but a moment; surely she had enough time to do a little good.

That being said, Jack rose and left, tucking his papers beneath his arm. Regina stuck her tongue out at his retreating back, slouching in her chair and glaring out towards the horizon as she cradled her tea in her hands.

"Shukum-sliggering tove wart," she mumbled childishly.

Still, she reflected as she stood and returned to bed, she had a week. One blessed, beautiful week to herself. Time enough, perhaps, to work a few miracles.

* * *

Regina sighed in relief as Jack's carriage rumbled away. Thank the Fates, he was safely gone for an entire week, and out of her hair. Now, to work.

Turning to the Stablemaster, Regina granted the woman her very most charming smile. "I think I'd like to take a ride through the country, Mistress Epona. Would you please have my carriage prepared?"  
"Of course, your Majesty," the burly woman nodded.  
"Oh, and perhaps someone could see to giving Sora some exercise?" Regina asked, sighing ruefully. "I'm afraid I'm still not quite well enough to ride."  
"We've been tending to her, my Lady," Epona promised. "The carriage will be ready directly."

Half a turn of the clock later, Regina was ensconced in her carriage, with just a light shawl on in deference to the mild spring day. Aderyn sat opposite her, and Regina smiled at her maid's wide-eyed curiosity about the country she now called home.

"What do you think of it?" Regina asked.  
Aderyn glanced back over her shoulder. "It's a big fixer-upper, isn't it?"  
"She is," Regina nodded. "I'm afraid She's been badly mistreated." Turning, she knocked on the window separating her from the driver. "Can you stop for a moment, please?"

The driver was quick to comply. Ignoring Aderyn's bemused face, Regina alighted, walking a short distance from the carriage and observing the land.

If she had her days right, it was now well into spring. Crims should have been furiously bursting into life, every plant blooming into glorious, riotous color. The crops should have been growing steadily, the bees beginning to hum and go foraging for pollen. The entire countryside should be ringing with farmers' working songs as they tilled the land or took their boats out for large hauls of fish.

And yet, the land was silent and still. It didn't feel like Crims was sleeping; it felt _dead_. It lay still and silent; not a sound except the wind, not a hint of the Heart's pulse.

Crouching down, she laid a hand to the ground, searching for any sign of life within the soil. "What's happened to you, precious?" she murmured. "How do I fix this?"

She had felt this before she'd fallen Mad, she remembered; this uneasy sense that the land was seriously ill. Before, she attributed it to her Madness affecting Crims. But she wasn't Mad anymore, and yet the land was still sick. So what was the true source of the problem? Was it, perhaps, a problem with the Heart?

Frowning, Regina turned back to the carriage. "Take us back to the castle," she commanded.

She needed to visit the Heart immediately; the sooner she sorted this mystery out, the better.

* * *

_She was running around in circles, lifting her gauzy skirts out of the way of her racing feet. She glimpsed her crown dancing ahead of her, Ioan was chasing Lily, Mary Contrary was running backwards, and Dafydd was somewhere behind being chased by Abraxas. But she had no hope of getting to either her crown or to Dafydd as long as she was running the Caucus race._

_She had had this same dream so many times since returning home. Running, running, always running. Never a beginning and never an end… no one ever loses and no one can ever win… Trapped in an endless circle, stuck with no hope of rescue._

"_Dafydd! Catch the crown for me!" she called across the circle.  
"What? I'm in __**front**__ of you, silly girl!" Dafydd called back. "You're chasing me, and your crown's chasing you, don't you remember?"  
"But then what are you chasing?" Regina asked, frowning.  
"Oh Regina, my dizzy dearbadan-de. You're all turned around back to front, cariad," Dafydd said, laughing warmly._

_He called a halt to the race, and immediately everyone in the circle— and there were an awful lot more of them than Regina had seen at first— broke into pairs and began waltzing. Dafydd wove his way through the dancing couples until he stood before her. He laid his hands on her shoulders and she shivered, melting into his touch. Oh, how she had missed him… She was so focused on him that she almost didn't notice what he was turning her to face._

"_I'm chasing this," he said softly, wrapping his arms around her from behind._

_Regina stared at the tiny orb of bright, golden light, entranced. How could she not have noticed this? It was so beautiful…_

"_What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
"A dream," Dafydd replied, pulling Regina further into his embrace. "A wish. A promise."_

_Curious, Regina lifted a hand to touch the orb. The light was warm, bathing her in its golden rays. It giggled when she touched it, a sound as pure and innocent as a baby's first laugh._

_The moment she touched it, the waltzing couples disappeared in a burst of golden light, leaving Dafydd and Regina alone. They stood face to face now, holding the orb between them._

"_Will you give me this boon, my lady?" he asked, his formal words evoking the Arthurian myths she had so loved as a child. "Will you grant me this one desire?"  
"I do grant and bestow this boon," she replied without a moment's pause._

_A smile grew on his face; the rare, full-blown beam that she saw so rarely and loved so much. With infinite tenderness, he folded her fingers around the orb, before drawing her in and kissing her forehead._

"_Keep it safe, dearbadan-de," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. "Keep him safe."_

She woke with a startled gasp. Her gaze flew to her hands, which were curled protectively in a fist on her stomach, as though she were still holding the beautiful little orb between her fingers. Sitting up, she cautiously opened her fingers, sighing in disappointment when her hand proved to be empty.

How strange, she mused. She had dreamed of the Caucus race frequently over the last five weeks, but she had never seen the little golden orb before. What a strange dream… It had felt so very real...

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Regina sat up, frowning as she tried to remember how she had ended up asleep in her room. The last thing she remembered was climbing back into the carriage during her ride through the countryside. Yes, that's right; she had wanted to return to the carriage to visit the Heart. But she'd fallen asleep in the carriage… Had one of the Albion carried her up to bed?

Well, no matter. She'd napped, and now it was time to go visit the Heart.

Regina sat up, idly rubbing her stomach as she glanced around her suite. Now that she thought about it, something about the way the décor of the entire castle had instantly changed… That shouldn't have happened. She and Dafydd had poured their lifeblood into the palace cornerstone; the castle was supposed to answer to their wills, and to those who carried their bloodlines after them. How could Jack have overridden the castle's loyalty?

Unless…

Frowning in sudden suspicion, Regina climbed out of bed, throwing a robe over her chemise. She rolled her eyes in irritation as her stomach grumbled; why did it have to choose _now_ to get hungry? Well, it would simply have to wait its turn; she had sleuthing to do before she thought about food.

"Azalea, I need clothes I can get filthy, please," Regina ordered, sticking her head out the door.

Azalea nodded, setting down the gown she'd been mending and bustling into the dressing room. Moments later, she handed Regina a bundle that proved to be her riding breeches, a plain tunic, and a pair of sturdy leather boots.

Regina grinned at her riding clothes, nodding. "These should do it. Thank you."  
"Do I want to know what you plan to be doing to get so filthy?" Azalea asked with a put-upon sigh.  
"No you don't," Regina grinned impishly.  
"That's what I thought," Azalea sighed, shaking her head in disapproval. "Off you go then."

Nodding, Regina shut the bedroom door, locking it behind her. Stripping off her robe and chemise, she changed into her riding clothes, tying her hair up in a high ponytail. Once she was ready, she walked around her bed to the right-hand side and ran her hand along the carved wainscoting, pressing the small carving of a bunch of apples, bunched together like grapes. She stepped back as the latch gave, and slipped into the secret passageway.

The passageway that connected Regina's suite to the Cornerstone Chamber was one of the most direct in the entire castle. She wasted no time traversing it; it was already early afternoon, and she didn't know how long this exploration would take. Counting the twists and turns she'd taken, Regina took two steps to the left and looked for the door trigger. Pressing it firmly, she stepped through, entering the deepest, most secluded room of the castle.

She saw the problem instantly. Regina and Dafydd's cornerstone had been made of white marble with blue veining. This cornerstone was made of gray slate. Regina's eyes narrowed in anger; well, no wonder the castle was following Jack's orders, if he'd replaced the cornerstone. She could only guess what had happened to hers; knowing Jack, he'd probably ordered it destroyed. Without a cornerstone programmed to be loyal to her, she couldn't reverse the changes to the castle.

"Hmph. Well, bugger," she grumbled, folding her arms.

Well, there was nothing for it. Sighing, she aimed a calculated kick at Jack's foundation stone, chipping off a piece of flint. Grasping the flint in her right hand, she held out her left, laying the sharp edge of the stone against the faint white scar that ran across her palm. Drawing a deep inhalation to steel herself against the pain, she sliced open her palm with the flint chip, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to watch the blood welling up in the cut. When she judged she had enough, she squatted down beside the foundation stone and laid her bloody palm against it. The stone felt resistant to her, at first, but after a moment it accepted her offering, and keyed her into the castle, rendering the building as obedient to her as to Jack.

That done, Regina turned her attention to the Door, absently cutting off a length of her shirt to bind around her wounded hand. She sighed softly; it had been quite a long time since she'd been in the presence of the Heart of Crims. She had missed It desperately. She frowned as she looked over the Door; the poor thing looked terribly neglected. When was the last time Jack oiled the hinges, or massaged the wooden planks with orange vanilla custard? Murmuring in apology for the neglect the Door had suffered, Regina reached for the Master Latch-

Then stared in horror as her hand met only air.

What had happened to the Door? Who had pried the Master Latch off his home, and _why_? Why would someone desecrate the passage to the Heart like this?

Only Regina, Dafydd, Alice, Lamia and Jack knew this chamber existed. Regina certainly hadn't ordered the Door destroyed, and surely Dafydd wouldn't do something this disrespectful. She was allied with all the other Queens, and to commit a sacrilege against a sister-queen's power like this was the gravest of offenses.

So that left Jack. But why would he destroy the only point of access to the source of his power? Why would he want to utterly decimate his birthplace in such a terrible way? Crims needed the Heart; without its magic, the land was still and dead. Jack was many things, but a bad ruler wasn't one of them, so why on earth would he do something like this?

Unless… Had he done this as an attack on her, to weaken her hold on Crims? She was dependent on the Heart's blessing to rule; she didn't know what the rules were for Blooded rulers. Had Jack isolated the Heart to ensure that Regina had no right to rule?

Well. This merited a visit to the Keymaster.

Blinking back tears, Regina pressed a hand against the door that now led to Nowhere.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, unsure if the Heart could hear her but needing to speak the words anyways. "I'll find the Master Latch, I promise. I'll find a way back to you."

She pressed a kiss to her fingers, then placed her fingers on the door. She blinked back her tears, leaving the chamber and slipping back into the secret passage. As soon as the door was shut behind her, she slid down the wall, tears spilling from her eyes.

Of all the horrible things Jack had done, his destruction of the Doorway was easily the worst, and certainly the most unforgivable. How many of the kingdom's troubles were due to Jack cutting the Heart off from the land? Regina's illness and Madness, crops failing, poor fishing returns… how much of it was due, at least in part, to the Heart being unable to connect with the land?

Surely this was something Regina could fix. She only needed a door that she could easily access and hide. She would find the Master Latch and put him there, and as Crims began to heal, perhaps the Heart would have counsel for her.

Drying her tears, Regina stood, using the wall for balance as she was hit by a wave of vertigo. She scowled down at her stomach; yes _alright_, she'd eat something! Stupid stomach, it had become so very much more sensitive in the weeks since her return to Crims. If this was a side effect of sobriety, she wasn't entirely certain she wanted to remain sober. Alright, perhaps that wasn't entirely true. But still, she could do without the debilitating waves of nausea and random attacks of vertigo.

Grumbling to herself, she started walking, trying to make some semblance of a plan. This was going to be harder than she had originally thought… but wasn't that true of everything, lately?

The sound of voices on the other side of the wall made Regina pause, cocking her head in confusion. If she was oriented correctly, she was near the dungeons. Why were there voices coming from the dungeons? Dafydd had insisted that she build them, but Regina had never ordered them used. Was this another change of Jack's?

Frowning, she changed course, turning down the hallway that, if she remembered right, would open into the dungeon. She swung open the wall…

…and then stared in shock.

At least half the cells were filled. Some of the faces she didn't recognize; some were merchants or fishermen from the town; a few were Nobles. And there, in the far corner…

"Clover!" Regina exclaimed, rushing forward.  
"Your Majesty!" Clover said, scrambling up off the floor and staggering to the door of her cell.  
"Clover, what on earth are you doing in here?" Regina asked, gripping the bars.  
"Baron Vulpez accused me of treason against the King," Clover spat, still looking feisty despite the weight she'd lost and the weariness in her shoulders. "Most of us are in here for treason."  
"Treason?" Regina asked, bewildered.  
"We support you, and didn't hide it," Clover said darkly. "Jack didn't like that much." Reaching out to grasp Regina's fingers, Clover moved closer. "Regina, you have to get Gregan out of here."  
Regina's eyes flew open. "Gregan-?"

She followed Clover's gaze across the hall, and then her jaw dropped. Lying on a cot in the cell opposite Clover was Dafydd's nephew. He looked as though he hadn't bathed in weeks, and he seemed half-starved. Regina couldn't tell if he was sleeping or merely pretending to, but beneath his closed eyes were dark, enormous purple shadows that spoke to insomnia.

"It's my fault he's here," Clover said guiltily. "I was trying to get a message to Dafydd, and I asked Gregan to send it. Vulpez caught us both."  
"And you've been here all the while?" Regina asked, feeling dizzy.  
Clover nodded. "Rhys found us… I'm not sure how long ago," she said, frowning. "He promised he'd get us out, but he hasn't been back."  
"That's not his fault," Regina said quickly, reaching through the bars to squeeze Clover's fingers. "The Fearail have been banished from the kingdom."  
Clover gasped, her face twisting in outrage. "Can Jack even do that?"  
"Apparently, since he has done it," Regina replied. "Fortunately, he's not the only one who can just do things."

Marching to the prison door, she jerked it open, smiling coldly as she made the two Albion guards jump in surprise.

"Queen Regina! How did you get in there?" one of them asked.  
"Magic," she replied sharply. "In here, both of you."

She smiled in grim satisfaction as they both obeyed her order. She hadn't thought she had any authority with the Albion, but it was gratifying to know that they would follow her commands.

"By order of the Queen, I command you to release Master Gregan and my maid," she commanded.  
The guards glanced at each other uncertainly. "But, my Lady, they're here by order of the King-"  
"Master Gregan I know to be innocent of all charges," she said coldly. "And as Clover is _my_ maid, I will punish her as I see fit. Now release them." When they hesitated, she narrowed her eyes. "Or shall I go to my lord King and inform him that you disobeyed his lady wife?"

That did it. She smirked in satisfaction as the guards hustled to release Gregan and Clover. Glancing around at all the other prisoners, Regina vowed to release them all; it was ridiculous that they'd been thrown in here on false charges. Her rebellion hadn't even gotten off the ground yet; why would Jack think that anyone had been plotting against him?

Shaking her head, she refocused as the guards unlocked Clover and Gregan from their cells. "Escort Master Gregan to his rooms," she ordered. "And bring Clover to my suite. I will follow directly."  
"Yes, my Lady," the guards bowed, before turning to their tasks.

When she'd watched the guards leave with the now-freed prisoners, Regina retreated, making sure no one was watching as she slipped back into the secret passage in the wall. Huffing, she allowed her anger to carry her through the hidden maze of passageways. How dare Jack imprison her people willy-nilly! It was outrageous, and she would take revenge for that injustice just as soon as she could.

When she made it back to her suite, she carefully cracked open the secret door, peering into her room to be sure that there were no servants loitering in her bedroom. Once she was certain that the room was deserted, she slipped into her suite and closed the wall panel behind her.

From the room beyond, Azalea gasped. "My word! Clover!"

Regina smiled to herself, listening to her maids' reunion through the closed door. There was one wrong corrected, one piece of the world set back to rights. Just the first of many, she promised herself.

Sighing, she plopped onto her bed and started tugging on her boots, wrestling with the stubborn laces. Brimini, this was impossible with only one good hand!

"Clover? Azalea?" she called, wincing at how pathetic her voice sounded.  
"What is it, lamb?" Azalea asked, walking into the bedroom and raising an eloquent eyebrow at the dust and cobwebs that had gotten onto Regina's hair and clothing.  
"Can you send Clover for the Keymaster? I'd like him to join me for supper," Regina said. "And… I think I need a bath," she said sheepishly.  
"I think you're right," Azalea said dryly. "I'll draw one up for you. Where would you like supper?"  
"The private dining chamber, I think," Regina said thoughtfully. "Somewhere we won't be disturbed."

If Azalea was curious about what Regina could possibly want with the Keymaster, she didn't comment, for which Regina silently thanked her.

"Aderyn, help Regina scrub her back. Mind you get all the cobwebs out of her hair. I'll find you something to wear while you're soaking," Azalea said over her shoulder as she withdrew to draw the bath. "Though goodness knows, the Keymaster wouldn't notice if you showed up exactly as you are."

Regina giggled as Azalea shut the door. It was true; the Keymaster was literally blind to anything that wasn't locks and keys. Still, it had already been a long day, and Regina really could do with a nice, relaxing bath.

A quarter of a clock later, the bath was ready. Regina held her breath as she stepped into the tub. As much as she loved Underlandian baths, she was terrified of the emotions she might purge into the bathwater. The Teas had made such an utter mess of her emotions; would that be reflected in the water?

She peeked at the water, then breathed a sigh of relief as she sank to her shoulders. Thanks be to goodness, the water was only a little cloudy, and some of that was dirt. She tilted her head back as Aderyn began carefully washing her curls, closing her eyes in gratefulness. She still felt a little weak, and she was still skittish of her emotions, but she appeared to be recovering. Maybe someday she would be back to her old self— as much as she could be, anyways, after everything she'd been through.

She bathed quickly with Aderyn's help, staying in the water only long enough to wash off the dirt of the cornerstone chamber. Once she was clean, she left the tub, silently promising herself that at some point this week she would take a bath simply for the joy of soaking. That promise made, she threw on a robe and headed into her dressing room, where Azalea was waiting with… oh dear goodness, that was a fancy gown. It was red, unfortunately, but the cut of the gown made up for the color. It was one-shouldered and full-length, with a filmy, floating skirt and a modest train. Azalea had even gotten out jewelry; a ruby and diamond set of necklace, bracelet, and earrings to go with one of the tiaras Jack had commissioned for her after their Betrothal. As Regina raised an eyebrow in question, Azalea rushed to explain.

"I know it's a bit much," she admitted. "But it's been such a long time since you cared what you looked like. I couldn't resist."

Regina bit her lip in consternation. She hadn't thought much about it— her memory of the past months was fuzzy to nonexistent, after all— but her prolonged Tea sickness must have placed an awful lot of trouble on Clover and Azalea. They were her maids, after all; the burden of caring for her must have fallen on them.

"I'm sorry, Azalea," she said contritely, fingering the dress. "I can't imagine what I must have put you and Clover through lately."  
"Now, never you mind that, pet," Azalea soothed her, as she gently nudged Regina to put the dress on. "Princess— _Queen_ Lily, that is— told us what had been done to you. We were horrified; we knew something was wrong but… we should have done something sooner. We could have ended it so much sooner," she sniffed, blinking back tears. "I'm so sorry, Regina."  
"But how could any of us have known?" Regina countered as Aderyn buttoned her into the gown. "There's no way of finding Tea in food. Even if we employed a Taster, we wouldn't always be able to tell."  
"I suppose," Azalea said reluctantly.

Regina nodded and returned her attention to the mirror, forcing herself to see past the blood red she was swathed in. Her aversion to red aside, this was who she was. She was the Queen of Hearts, the ruler of Crims. This was her destiny; this was her purpose. She wasn't going to give up again.

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. She looked at the door through the reflection in the mirror, watching as Clover walked in and bobbed a quick curtsey.

"Welcome back, your Majesty," she grinned.

Regina's lips drew up in a smile, even as tears stung her eyes. Before the tears had time to fall, Clover spoke again.

"The Keymaster is expecting you in his tower, and supper's being brought up."  
"Excellent," Regina nodded. "Thank you, Clover."  
"Will you be wanting to retire when you get back?" Clover asked.  
"Is that your subtle way of telling me I should go to bed?" Regina asked, grinning.  
"Well, you do look tired, milady," Aderyn shrugged. "And you weren't exactly on holiday in Marmoreal."  
"Fates preserve me, there are three of you now. I'll be good and go to bed, then," Regina promised.

Satisfied, her maids nodded, and retreated to the bedroom. Looking herself over one last time, Regina shrugged in vague satisfaction and stood, heading for the door.

* * *

The Keymaster was ancient. Some of the more fantastical tales claimed that he was as old as Underland Herself. Most people at least halfway believed the tales. The Keymaster was very rarely seen, but everyone in Underland grew up with stories of what he looked like; tall but stooped with age, his hair and beard both snow white and falling to his knees. He dressed in elaborate floor-length robes, and leaned his weight on his carved staff. He had no permanent home; he traveled from country to country as it suited him, and every queendom maintained a suite for his use.

In Crims, the Keymaster occupied the top two floors of the western tower. The suite wasn't enormous, but it was more than suitable for the Keymaster and his tamed borogrove. When Regina ascended the tower stairs, she opened the suite door to discover the supper already laid out, and the Keymaster already helping himself.

"Keymaster," Regina nodded respectfully, though he couldn't see that.  
"I've been expecting you, girl, what's kept you so long?"  
She smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, my maids-"  
"You misunderstand me," the Keymaster interrupted her. "I've been waiting for weeks, wondering when you would realize that the Heart of Crims has been crying out for you. I had thought that when you became sick, you'd understand the cause and come to me right off. And yet, here I am, waiting for weeks."  
Regina's brow furrowed in confusion. "My Madness was caused by Tea Sickness-"  
"Which the Heart was trying to protect you from," the Keymaster said, interrupting again. "It wasn't until the Door to the Heart was broken that your illness truly progressed, or did you not notice that?"

Regina frowned as she thought that over. It made sense, she admitted; it was easy to believe that being cut off from the source of her power would leave her exposed and vulnerable.

"Well, I'm here now," Regina replied. "I went down to the Door today, but it's been destroyed. Where is the Master Latch?"  
A faint, crafty smile crossed the Keymaster's ancient face. "I've kept him safe. Jack abused him most abominably; it took quite a lot of time to repair him."  
"But why would Jack remove Latchhook in the first place?" Regina asked.  
"Because Latchhook wouldn't admit Jack into the Heart's presence," the Keymaster replied placidly. "He'll only admit you."

Regina's heart swelled. Here was confirmation; _she_ was the true ruler of Crims, not Jack. The Heart didn't accept Jack; It wanted her.

"So if Jack hasn't been accepted by the Heart, where has he been going when he passes through the Door?" she asked curiously.  
"Darkness," the Keymaster said, his voice solemn. "When he detached the Master Latch from the Door, Jack cut the Heart off from Crims, but also from you and from himself. And this is why you and the land fell so ill. Jack tried to force the Heart to accept him; instead, he opened a door to Darkness. This is what he drew into himself; primordial chaos. And this is what he has been spreading into Crims. He does not rule from the Heart of Crims, but from that dark place of chaos and turmoil. The Darkness will destroy him, in the end, unless that Door is closed again."

Regina stared, agog. How utterly terrible; this was even worse than she had feared!

"What can be done?" she asked hoarsely. "How can I fix this?"  
"We will restore the Master Latch and reunite you with the Heart, of course," the Keymaster replied. "It's probably too late for Jack, but you can at least repair the damage he's done. But supper first. One should never rebel on an empty stomach."

She shivered at the Keymaster's casual dismissal of Jack's fate. Despite the wrongs he had done her, she couldn't fathom abandoning him to ruin and destruction. Surely, there must be some way she could help him… After all, they were bound together for the rest of their lives. Wasn't it her responsibility to try to help him, both as his wife and as his Queen?

Regina squirmed with impatience for the duration of the meal. Despite the fact that her stomach had been growling for the past few hours, she was only able to swallow a few bites before she felt utterly full. Frustrated with her stomach's inconsistency, Regina sipped her water as she waited for the Keymaster to finish his meal.

"Well then, that's better," he sighed in satisfaction, patting his beard. "Very well, let's see about the Latch."

Standing, the Keymaster withdrew to his private quarters. Regina remained in the sitting room, vibrating with impatience while watching Charlie the borogrove gnaw at the tove bones that had been his supper. Now that she was so close to taking Crims back from Jack, she had no patience; she wanted it over and done with. The sooner she brought the Heart back to Crims, the sooner she could fix all the damage that had been done.

Finally, the Keymaster returned. A leather pouch was hanging from his belt, and cradled in one gnarled hand was a highly carved wooden box.

"Now then," the Keymaster said, leaning on his staff as he offered her the box. "You take this, and we'll reinstate the Door. I trust you have a door in mind?"  
"I… well yes, I do," Regina admitted. "Though it is somewhat… unorthodox."  
"As long as it's a door," the Keymaster brushed off her concerns. "Lead on, girl."

Shrugging, Regina stepped forward and took the box from the Keymaster's hand. Nodding in approval, the Keymaster took her arm, and they left his suite, slowly making their way through the castle. Once they were safely ensconced in Regina's chambers, she guided the Keymaster into her dressing room, waving off her curious maids and shutting the door behind her.

"You wish to place the Master Latch on the door to your armoire?"

Regina spun around in surprise, to find the Keymaster contemplating her armoire, his eyes no longer cloudy and blind but a keen, clear grey. She shouldn't be shocked, she rebuffed herself; hadn't she seen for herself, on the day of her Queenmaking, that the Keymaster was blind to everything that wasn't locks and doors? He was dealing with both right now; of course he could see.

"Fancy having a secret world in your wardrobe, do you?" he teased her.  
"It's the one place I can be sure Jack won't look," Regina said sheepishly.  
"It is a relief to know there's at least one pie Jack doesn't have a finger in," the Keymaster nodded. "This won't take a moment."

Regina wrung her hands anxiously, trying not to fidget as the Keymaster worked. But it was impossible; with every movement the Keymaster made, she inched closer and closer to reunion with the Heart. She imagined the Heart could sense her impatience, feel how Regina was straining to join with It again.

And indeed, the Keymaster barely had time to move out of the way before both doors to the armoire flew open, and a strong wave of energy flew out like a gust of wind, wrapping around Regina and sucking her into the wardrobe.

_Mine mine mine mine mine home welcome home mine oh how I missed you yours yours mine_

Was she crying, or was she laughing? Dancing, singing, weeping, screaming? Was she rejoicing, or was that the Heart? Was the Heart wrapping around her, or had she warped to envelope the Heart?

_Mine… you are both mine…  
We are yours, always.  
Don't leave again.  
Never. Never, ever again.  
Mine.  
Yours. Mine.  
Yours._

* * *

The wagon smelled of sour ale and old straw. It was rickety and falling apart, and was lurching so much that Gregan was sure he would either fall out or be sick— or both. But he was willing to ignore all of that; he was so grateful to be out of that Fates-forsaken dungeon. He hoped Underland cursed whoever had designed it. He huddled into his nest of blankets and burlap sacks, and he focused on the fact that he was free.

He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been trapped in that fetid dungeon. He'd been left alone, which he supposed was a blessing— no interrogations, no beatings, just abandoned and left to rot, with no clue what he'd done wrong.

And now he was free, just as suddenly as he'd been imprisoned, and with just as little explanation. Regina had ordered his release yesterday afternoon, and that evening he'd been collected by Laird Tarrant and bundled into this wagon. Now they were traveling to he knew not where. They'd journeyed through the night and into the morning, and still Gregan had no idea where they were. But the _where_ was immaterial, really; as long as he was free.

He must have dozed off, because the sound of the tarp being ripped off the wagon woke him. He whimpered, his eyes watering as they were assaulted by sunlight for the first time in seven weeks.

"Oh dear, my apologies," Tarrant apologized, helping him out of the wagon. "On your feet, now."

As his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, Gregan looked around, wondering where in the worlds he was.

They stood on a rocky beach before a jagged, impenetrable cliff face. A glance behind him revealed a ferry barge, which must have been how they traveled to this desolate place. The only sounds were the waves on the shore, and the shrill cry of hungry seagulls. It was a barren, lonely place, and Gregan shuddered at the thought of being abandoned here.

"Welcome to the island of Prydein," Tarrant replied, motioning toward the cliff. "Can you climb?"

The seemingly insurmountable cliff proved to have a well-concealed staircase cut into the rock. Gregan was very slow, weak after weeks in the dungeon, but Tarrant didn't seem to mind how unsteady he was. As the sun reached its zenith, they reached the top of the cliff, and Gregan got his first look at the community who lived on the island.

To his surprise, he recognized many of them. They were Hightopp men; the Fearail. What were they doing here? Why weren't they in Crims, protecting the Queen?

"Welcome, m'laird," Morwyn called. "We wondered what was keeping you."  
"My daughter needed a favor," Tarrant replied, motioning towards Gregan. "Where is Dafydd?"  
"In with the Rabbits," Morwyn replied, nodding toward the big green tent in the center of the camp.

As Tarrant led him forward, Gregan couldn't help a pang of nostalgia. The Fearail were camped out in tents, in a scene straight out of his childhood. It had been a harsh existence, but it seemed so much easier; more honest than the plots these Wonderlanders got up to behind their stone walls.

Just as they approached the tent, half a dozen Rabbits hopped out, not sparing Tarrant or Gregan a glance as they leapt away. Curious, Gregan watched, wondering where on this sparse island they lived. A moment later, he gaped in shock as one Rabbit stamped his foot on the ground, and a hole appeared, large enough for all the Rabbits to disappear through.

Tarrant grinned at Gregan's stunned expression. "Rabbit hole," he explained. "I'd have brought you that way, but you're not quite up to it at present."

Gregan frowned, but he dropped the point as his uncle exited the tent.

The last time Gregan had seen Dafydd, they had argued, and parted on bad terms. In the months since Dafydd had sent Gregan to Isla Affalin, they hadn't exchanged a single word; Gregan hadn't heard a whisper of news about his uncle.

Perhaps upon seeing Dafydd now, Gregan should have felt a resurgence of anger, or a reluctance to speak to him. But honestly, after the accursed dungeons of Isla Affalin, it was such a relief to see a familiar face that before Gregan realized he'd moved, he was running forward and throwing his arms around his favorite relative. Dafydd stiffened with surprise, but before Gregan could become embarrassed and withdraw, Dafydd was hugging back.

"This is a surprise," he commented. "Shouldn't you be in a music lesson?"

Gregan shuddered, curling into himself at the mention of his prison.

"Gregan was locked in the dungeons of Isla Affalin, my boy," Tarrant explained, his voice hard. "Accused of treason."  
"What?" Dafydd asked, his voice going cold.  
"Regina sent for me yesterday," Tarrant said. "Apparently Jack caught Gregan and Clover exchanging treasonous letters meant for you, and locked them both away."  
"I see," Dafydd said slowly.  
"Jack is in the Tulgey Wood, hunting for Jubjubs with Shepard and the Sharafs," Tarrant said. "I'm meant to return there tonight. Regina is taking advantage of the time alone in the palace to try and set things to rights. She was down in the Cornerstone Chamber when she found the Nobles in the dungeons. She can't do anything about most of them, but she had Gregan smuggled out."

To be honest, Gregan still couldn't believe that Regina had done that for him. Why had she saved him? He and his family had never liked her, or even been kind to her. Had she only freed him to please Dafydd?

Chancing a glance up at his uncle, Gregan bit his lip. Oh, Dafydd looked angry; if he clenched his jaw any harder it was sure to snap.

"He did it to get back at me," Dafydd said, breaking away to pace and shoving a hand through his curly hair, so much longer now than it had been the last time Gregan had seen his uncle. "Because Gregan's my nephew."  
"Aye, lad," Tarrant nodded in agreement. "Jack's put a lot of energy into discrediting you in any way he can."  
Pausing, Dafydd turned to Gregan. "I can't send him to Annwyn, Jack's seized that," he said, frustrated. "And as much as I know you're on our side, Tarrant, I can't ask you to give sanctuary to an escaped prisoner. That'd be a declaration of war."  
"I'm afraid so," Tarrant inclined his head. "And while I may be alright with that, Alice won't go to war against Jack. Not until she can rid Regina of him completely."  
Dafydd made a noise of impatience before returning to his pacing. "Think, think," he muttered.  
"What about Ioan?" Tarrant asked.  
Dafydd shook his head. "Ioan's Oversea in Accor, with the White Children. It's the same problem, though-"  
"Is it?" Tarrant asked. "If we ask them for asylum? Jack's cut off trade associations with most of the Oversea kingdoms other than Accor, and none of them are feeling very friendly toward him just now."  
Dafydd scratched at his beard, considering. "It might work," he allowed, before turning to Gregan. "You're not a boy anymore, so you should have the choice," he said. "We do need to get you somewhere safe, out of Jack's reach. Accor isn't much safer than Tearmunn; Crims has alliances and trade agreements with the Liegeling, and Jack could exploit that to bring you back to Isla Affalin. But he'd have a harder time finding you Oversea, and it would be easier to protect you."

Gregan swallowed hard. Speech had been beyond him since he was abandoned in the dungeons of Isla Affalin, but he managed to nod assent to the plan.

Dafydd smiled bracingly, clapping him on the shoulder. "You'll end up the most well-traveled of all of us, at this rate."

It was a platitude, an attempt to put a good spin on a bad situation. Gregan's fate seemed to be becoming a tumbleweed, without anchoring roots and a resting place. He kept being shunted from place to aimless place like unwanted luggage, and for what? To not be anyone's burden?

But what else could he do? He was a man; too old to run and hide behind his mathair's skirts. But nowhere in Underland was safe for him. What choice was there but to flee across the Crimson Sea?

* * *

Shadhavar couldn't exactly claim that he was looking forward to this afternoon.

Not that he objected to his present company. Perhaps obviously, the White Unicorn had never had much occasion to become close friends with a Queen of the Red Lands. But Shadhavar had been acquainted with Regina since her return to Underland nearly four years ago, and of course Leferidae had always spoken exceptionally highly of her. In any event, the young Queen looked much better than she had of late, and Shadhavar was glad of it, and pleased to have her company on this trip.

Still, he wasn't completely keen on the idea of accompanying Regina to visit young Leesin.

The Lioness cub had wanted to meet her charges. Leferidae's will had explicitly stated that Shadhavar was to serve as the Cub's guardian until she matured, and Underland only knew when that would be. So here the Unicorn found himself, roped into supervising this meeting between his lover's heir and said lover's beloved Queen.

With a monumental effort, Shadhavar controlled his impulse to heave a great sigh as the carriage wheeled into Simbafari, the ancestral estate of the Lions. He had so many pleasant memories of this place— long walks through the grounds, private meals in Lef's workshops, the heady scent of roses. Such times they'd enjoyed together…

But no more, Shadhavar reminded himself. Leesin was a very different sort of Lion; those perfect golden days with Leferidae were over.

As the carriage came to a stop, Shadhavar aided the diminutive Queen out onto solid ground.

"How lovely," Regina sighed appreciatively as she took in the estate grounds. "Do you know, I don't think I've been here since just after my Queenmaking? How long ago that seems," she said pensively.  
"I remember," Shadhavar nodded. "You played the most beautiful little etude on the pianoforte."  
"If it was beautiful, that was because of Leferidae accompanying me on the lyre," Regina replied. "Oh Shadhavar, what will we do without him?"

The Unicorn exhaled shakily, but before he could answer, the front door opened and a small bundle of fluffy energy came barreling out.

She was wearing a hastily tailored old tunic of Lef's, that even with the alterations still threatened to slide off the Cub's shoulders as the sleeves swallowed her paws. Her dishabille was adorable, as was the utter excitement and joy on her face as she sprinted toward them at top speed.

"Regina!" she exclaimed. "My Gigi! You're here!"

It was so interesting to Shadhavar, this talent of Regina's to utterly charm all who met her. He wondered if it was her inheritance from Absolutely Alice.

"Of course I'm here," Regina said, sinking into a deep curtsey.  
Leesin giggled, then flung herself into Regina's arms. "I've been waiting for so long— But you're unwell!" she interrupted herself, her glee fading to horror as she laid her head over Regina's heart. "You've been so horribly ill, and Papa and I didn't help you!"

Snarling, she glared up at Shadhavar, her eyes shining with tears.

"This is your fault!" she yelled. "You didn't bring me to my Gigi when she needed me! She _died_, and I wasn't _there_!"  
"Oh, no, sweetheart," Regina cooed, holding Leesin close as she exchanged a flabbergasted Look with the Unicorn. "Please don't be angry, I'm right here! Look, I haven't died-"  
"Yes you _did_!" Leesin wailed, clinging to Regina as she began to cry. "Your breath stopped and your heart stopped and you were _dead_ until your Lionheart came to you! And nobody brought me to _fix_ you!"

Regina hugged the Cub, feeling entirely lost. She had died? Really and truly died? Alice hadn't told her that…

She opened her mouth to comfort Leesin, but what came out was a strangled gasp of pain.

"Regina?" Shadhavar queried as she examined her hand.  
"I… I could have sworn I was just burned…" Regina stated.

Upon examining her hand, however, there was no hint as to what had caused the sensation; nothing was left on her skin, just a faint red splotch that was rapidly disappearing.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Regina muttered.  
"Gigi?" Leesin asked, voice wobbling. "Are you alright?"  
"Of course I am," Regina quickly assured the Cub, wiping away her tears… and yelping in pain as once again her skin burned.

This time, she was able to watch as three milky drops dissolved into her skin. The same sort of milky drops falling from Leesin's dark eyes.

"Burning tears?" Regina marveled.

Beside her, Shadhavar kneeled down, ignoring Leesin's scowl as he caught her muzzle with one hoof and examined her tears, his eyes widening in shock.

"They're Unicorn tears," he announced.

It was the truth, and the correct answer… And it was also completely absurd, impossible, and nonsensical. Exactly like Wonderland.

How fitting that Leesin should have bits of both Leferidae and Shadhavar within her, that somehow, their love had merged and melded within the Cub; the Unicorn's heir as much as the Lion's. And if that was true, then Leesin marked another new beginning for Underland, another piece of the world changing.

A moment later, all thoughts of Leesin's place in Underland, and being his daughter, were blown out of his mind as he put two and two together.

Unicorn tears. The burns on Regina's hands.

The tears of a Unicorn could be used to heal. But if one was well and was given Unicorn tears, the tears would burn and harm. It was for that reason that Unicorn tears had once been a popular item in poisons, once upon a yesterday.

Leesin could cry Unicorn tears, but Leferidae had had no tolerance for them.

When the White Royals had been found dead, there had been no clue as to what had killed them, but for a small burn on Mirana's right ear that led now-Queen Lily to realize it had been poison.

Shadhavar didn't ordinarily indulge in profanity, but this seemed like an opportune moment for a well-placed oath.

"By Time's googly mooglies," he breathed. "I must see the Queen, immediately."

* * *

There were some advantages to Queenship.

Lily Palladia of the House of Adamas, formerly the Crown Princess and now the Queen of Marmoreal, may have been reluctant to assume the throne and all the responsibilities that came with it. But, after almost twelve weeks on the job, Lily had found some perks.

For starters, there was no one to naysay Lily if she decided not to wear the corsets and voluminous skirts her mother had favored. She was finally free to wear her beloved breeches and riding boots, and vests she stole from Ioan's wardrobe.

Also, she finally had the power to get things done. Her mother had continually been telling her to _wait_, to _have patience_, to let other people take the reins when Lily was just as competent and twice as quick. Now that she was Queen, she was expected to be the one doing things. And so she did, with a relish.

But there were disadvantages. Being Queen meant being the leader, and there was no one she could turn to or look up to. She _was_ the responsible one now (and wasn't that a terrifying thought?), the one who had to have or find all the answers.

The question of her parents' murder had hung over Lily's head for weeks. There had been no clues, at first, no hint as to who might have been responsible. Fearful for her siblings' safety, Lily had plotted with Ioan to smuggle them out of Underland.

She'd been given one piece of the puzzle by Ioan's clansman Rhys. A hollow book, three empty vials, and a half-destroyed note that suggested that whatever had been inside the bottles had been used to kill her parents and the Red Lion. It had been a tantalizing hint, but until now fruitless; Lily didn't have the resources needed to analyze the materials.

Then a visibly shaken Shadhavar had strode into the armory, interrupting Lily's daily weapons lesson to tell her that he believed the active ingredient of the murderous concoction had been Unicorn tears. It was the first proof Lily had had that her parents hadn't just died, they'd been _murdered_. But she didn't have anyone with sufficient experience to test the vials and either prove or disprove their theory.

And so Ioan had sent her a Doctor.

Well, alright, fine, technically he'd sent the Doctor and his Companion to inform Lily that her youngest sister Nerissa was ill with Homesickness. Which was very serious news, and Lily was giving the problem her full attention.

But while she was busy considering what to do for her ailing sister (while keeping her safely away from Marmoreal), there was no reason not to employ the Doctor's services while she had them, right? It would be simply irresponsible of her to pass that resource by. She had a duty to discover what had happened to Mirana, Kalen and Leferidae, and to ensure that the guilty parties were punished.

Rather predictably, the Doctor's eyes had lit up in glee when Lily had presented the problem to him. As a rule, the Doctors were an insatiably curious breed, and absolutely adored puzzles and figuring things out. Hand them what looked like a perfect murder and watch them go.

Lily had graciously allowed the Doctor and Pond to carry out their tests in Mirana's alchemy kitchen. And now here she was, pacing through her great hall and waiting for news.

She was terrible at waiting, and taking the throne hadn't made her any more patient.

While she was stuck waiting, Lily turned her mind to Crims. Regina was home alone for an entire week after weeks of cohabitation with her husband; Jack had invited all the Kings on a hunt (Ioan was a bit put out that he was missing it; he hated Jack, but he did love a good hunt). What was Gigi up to? How was she faring with her newfound sanity and sobriety?

She wondered if Gigi would take advantage of Jack's absence to meet with Dafydd in Tearmunn. Lily had no idea how exactly the pair of them were coping with Regina's marriage and Dafydd's exile; were they even in contact? Perhaps Lily could commission a pair of handheld looking glasses for them to use to communicate, like the mirrors she and Gigi used. She might not entirely approve of Dafydd, but at least he was better than Jack. Dafydd, at least, made Gigi happy, and Lily would support anything that made her cousin happy.

Better yet, perhaps Lily ought to go and pay Gigi a visit, maybe bring her to Tearmunn for the express purpose of observing how she and Dafydd behaved together. That would be a perfect opportunity to make sure Dafydd was taking proper care of Regina— and if he wasn't, Lily would yell at him. She would be lying if she said she didn't take a private delight in giving the hulking Outlander a stern dressing-down; stars above knew Gigi didn't do it. She probably worshipped him as the sun in her sky, and they never argued just for the fun of it.

Lily couldn't fathom how impossibly boring their romance must be.

Thoughts of Regina's aborted love story turned Lily's thoughts to her own fiancé. Since leaving Marmoreal with her siblings, Lily hadn't heard from Ioan. She was rather irritated about that, actually. Just what was the infuriating casgen ddiog up to, that he had no time to contact her? She had half a mind to travel to Accor herself and pester Ioan until he remembered to speak to her!

Actually, now that she thought of it, that wasn't a bad idea. She'd been itching to travel anyways, and if she went to Accor she could see Nerissa's condition for herself. After all, Lily was the Crown-Keeper; she carried the Diamond Mind with her, and if Nerissa was Homesick that was just what she needed to get better. And if she left from the port of Isla Affalin that gave her an excuse to visit Gigi…

"Your Majesty!"

The Doctor's excited voice broke Lily out of her thoughts. Ceasing her pacing, she turned to watch the tall, gangly man in the bowtie and fez rush towards her, his hair flopping in his eyes.

"Doctor," she greeted him. "You have news?"  
"Of course I have news. Lots of news!" he declared, rubbing his hands together. "The vials you gave me all held the same poison. Very clever. Someone knew what they were doing. Very carefully formulated to leave no trace behind."  
"What was in the poison?" Lily asked, her throat tight. "Were they… Did my parents die in pain?"  
The Doctor's face softened in compassion. "They didn't feel a thing," he said gently. "The shylock made sure of that, and Unicorn tears work fast. It was over very quickly."

Lily nodded, blinking back the moisture that stung her eyes. Good; that was good. She'd had terrible nightmares about her parents suffering in agony for hours before succumbing to death. It had been done more kindly than she had expected; she would be kind to the killer in turn, when she found them. Instead of long hours of slow torture, she would kill them quickly and mercifully.

"Thank you, Doctor," she managed to choke out. "Do you have any idea who might have made the poison?"  
"Not yet," the Doctor shook his head. "The ingredients are very specific. Several of them are alchemical. All of them can be found in your mother's stores, actually. If the murderer was from here, and we have no reason to believe they're not, then they had access to the Queen's private laboratory, as well as access to the Queen's and the Duke of Tenniel's chambers."

Lily frowned, trying to think. Mirana had been very particular about who had been allowed in her alchemy kitchen, which should narrow down the list of suspects considerably. So, who had keys to the laboratory? Kalen of course, but he had also been killed. Shadhavar; but the Unicorn was the Guardian of the White Lands and couldn't harm a White Queen. Duke Blancmilque had once been Mirana's associate and fellow alchemist, before she'd learned that he had been behaving improperly toward Rose, one of the Queen's Flowers, and Mirana had ordered him stripped of his title and land, and then banished…

At that, Lily paused. Blancmilque had been known throughout Marmoreal for his skill in potion making. He had reason to want his Queen dead. The poison had been made with materials he would have known well.

Put all that together, and it was starting to look very suspicious.

When Blancmilque had been exiled from Marmoreal, he had fallen off the grid for a time, until he turned up in Prince Jack's retinue at the Suitors' Joust. If he had asylum in Crims… Well, that made another reason for her to travel to visit Gigi.

"Thank you, Doctor," Lily said. "You've been most helpful."

Nodding in satisfaction, Lily strode away, the click of her heeled boots echoing loudly through the hall. She would leave tomorrow, she decided. First to Crims, to check in on Gigi and hopefully solve the riddle of her parents' murder. Then Oversea to Accor, to heal Nerissa and yell at Ioan. She had quite a week ahead of her…

It was good to be Queen.

* * *

Translation Note: As usual, this is coming from an online English to Welsh translator, so it's likely entirely incorrect.

Casgen ddiog: lazy ass


	7. Time for Miracles

**Author's Note**: In July, this story celebrated its fifth birthday. I started work on _Search for the Azure Princess_ in July, 2010. And here we are five years later. The original fifteen-chapter story has expanded into a five-part epic, the last few chapters of which are _still_ being edited and revised, and the plot has changed beyond recognition from my original idea. But I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. We're gearing up for the very last thrust of action, now. We are, in the words of Tiana from _The Princess and the Frog_, almost there.

**Warning**: General warning for Regina's mental state throughout this chapter. She is not in a good place right now, so if a POV in the mind of a very anxious person is triggering for you, please proceed with caution.

**Special Thanks**: To you, dear reader. Thank you so much for reading this story (even five years later!), for reviewing, for being wonderful human beings. I really, truly appreciate it.

* * *

Ordinarily, Lily enjoyed the journey between the White City and Isla Affalin. There was very good riding terrain, and Lily so loved to ride. She and Ioan loved racing across the countryside.

But she had to admit she wasn't looking forward to this visit quite as much as usual. For starters, the weather wasn't especially cooperative; Spring had "blessed" them all with a terrible damp cold snap, and even Lily couldn't bear the notion of riding exposed to the elements. And she didn't expect matters to be any more comfortable once she got to Crims. After all, once she'd assured herself that Regina was on the mend, she had to stir up trouble and ask her fellow Queen for a criminal extraction, and _then_ accuse her cousin the King of high treason.

Lily's lips quirked in a sad smile. Her mother had always lamented Lily's talent for stirring up trouble…

Shivering, Lily drew her Bandersnatch wool cloak closer around herself, leaning over to look out the window as her small entourage passed through the town gates. Thank the Stars, it wasn't market day; if it had been, the streets would have been utterly clogged, and she'd be trapped. They made enough of a ruckus as it was; no matter that Lily was a frequent visitor to the palace, a royal procession always caused excitement. Another reason she preferred to ride, as opposed to using the carriage… At least the commotion would give the palace guards enough advanced warning of her arrival.

She sat up straighter as the carriage was admitted into the grounds of Isla Affalin. Right, showtime. She was on a quest, and it was time to begin.

She wasn't surprised to see that Regina wasn't outside to meet her. Actually, Lily would have yelled at her if she had been; as bad as this weather was for Lily, it was even worse for a still-frail Regina, who was so susceptible to any hint of cold.

Duchess Contrary stepped forward as one of the footmen handed Lily out of the carriage.

"Welcome back, your Majesty," Mary said, bobbing a curtsey. "The Queen was quite excited when you said you were coming for a visit."  
"I hope I don't disappoint her," Lily said. "I've come on serious business."  
"Does it involve rebellion?" Mary asked. "That's Regina's favorite pastime, since coming home."  
"Is it?" Lily asked, intrigued. "Well then, it should be a good visit."

Mary's lips curved in a conspiratorial smile, but when she spoke again the topic seemed to be closed.

"Her Majesty's arranged a feast for tonight to welcome you. She's meeting with the Ministers today, but she'd like you to come to tea tomorrow afternoon."  
"Of course," Lily nodded.  
"Let me lead you to your rooms," Mary said. "Get you settled in before the fun tonight."

That suited Lily just fine; it fit right in with her own plans. She could use the feast tonight to gauge how Gigi was doing, and spend today poking around to see if she could find any evidence pointing to Blancmilque's or Jack's complicity in her parents' murders. Then, once she was done working, she could spend a few days relaxing before she left for Accor. Yes, she liked that plan.

* * *

There were, Lily mused, some fundamental differences between herself and her cousin.

In general, Lily wasn't a fan of pomp and circumstance. Whether that was because she was only a Crown Keeper, or if it was just her nature, she didn't know. But either way, she had allowed many of the White Court's formalities to lapse. Lily loved the work of Queenship, but she'd never enjoyed the ceremony. In that, Lily was very much like Alice.

Regina, by contrast, was much more like Mirana, in that they both enjoyed the rituals and pageantry of Court life. What they got out of it, Lily had no idea.

Still, she'd be lying if she said there weren't some advantages to Court etiquette. For formal State dinners, the Crimsian royal family would sit at the high table alone with their guests, no advisors or attendants allowed. Since Jack was absent on his hunting trip, Regina and Lily sat at table alone, which gave Lily all the time she needed to observe her cousin.

At least Regina had her sanity back. That was a miracle, and Lily was grateful. Regina's eyes were mercifully green and unclouded by Tea, and not once all evening did she tremble from the Chill. But the past months had marked and Aged her, and the changes appeared to be permanent. Regina's reddish-gold curls were now liberally sprinkled with streaks of white blonde. Her green eyes had once been flecked with gold, but now the gold had faded to a leaden grey. She was more pale than ever, and Lily swore she'd lost weight.

More profoundly, Regina's manner had changed. Once, she had looked out over assemblies like this with unbridled delight. Her smiles had been large and frequent, and her joy had lit up the room. She seemed much less at ease, now. Her eyes were watchful, wary; she held herself so still and tightly wound that it seemed a miracle she didn't explode. She regarded her Court as though she expected attack at any moment. Glumly, Lily wondered whether Regina would be so guarded if Dafydd were present. Did she keep watch so vigilantly because he was no longer there to do it for her?

"How have you been getting on, Lily?" Regina asked.  
"Well enough, I guess," Lily shrugged. "It's funny, I've been training for this my entire life, but now that I'm doing it, it's like I haven't learned a thing."  
Regina smiled. "You've been doing a wonderful job so far," she said assuredly. "Jack told me you've made some impressive changes."  
"Nowhere near the changes he's made," Lily said, unable to keep the testiness from her voice.  
Regina regarded her thoughtfully. "You sound as though you don't approve."  
"I don't," Lily asserted bluntly. "You're Queen here, but he's not consulted you on a single one of his changes."  
"Well, I was Mad at the time," Regina replied dryly. "But you're right. I am Queen," she continued, her gaze returning out over the Court. "That still means something, even if Jack is the one who rules."

Lily glanced over at Regina, musing. The tone of her voice was so strange; she sounded so full of longing, but her words made it seem as thought she didn't intend to fight.

"You don't intend to reclaim your crown?" she frowned.  
"I do," Regina said, sounding oddly resigned. "Indirectly. It's a long game."

Lily opened her mouth to comment, but was interrupted by Regina's sound of distress as she abruptly pushed away a platter of delicious-looking hard-boiled, colored eggs.

"Gigi?" she frowned.  
"Sorry," she apologized, making a face. "I can't stand the smell lately, it makes me feel ill."  
"How odd," Lily said sympathetically. "You alright?"  
"I'll be fine in a minute," Regina nodded, drawing a deep breath and gingerly rubbing her stomach. "Ugh. Anyways, you were about to say something?"

Lily hesitated. She hadn't really meant to have this conversation today, when Regina was already tired from a long day arguing with her Ministers and obviously not feeling well, whatever she might say. Maybe she should wait for tomorrow's tea, when they were assured of privacy? And if Gigi was already not feeling well, maybe she really shouldn't introduce an upsetting topic?

But as usual, Lily's mouth was miles ahead of her brain. Someday, she really would have to do something about that…

"I think Jack was involved in my parents' deaths," she blurted out.

For a long moment, Regina was frozen, staring at Lily without blinking (or, possibly, breathing). Slowly, carefully, she lowered her wine glass.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked in a strangled voice.  
Lily drew a bracing breath. "My parents were poisoned, Gigi," she said. "Leferidae too. I think it was Duke Blancmilque, and if that's true then I think Jack was behind it. I came here partly to ask your permission to look for evidence in their chambers."

Regina stared at Lily as though she thought Lily Mad— which was rich, coming from a Hightopp.

"What possible benefit would Jack gain from killing your parents?" she finally asked.  
Lily shrugged. "Eliminate a rival? Take revenge for Aunt Iracebeth? Cause trouble? Come on Gigi, tell me honestly that you don't think Jack capable."

Lily kept quiet, watching Regina founder and struggle with the possibility that she was wed to a murderer.

"Assuming this was true, what could we do about it?" Regina asked (and Lily did not miss the fact that she'd said 'we'). "How would Jack, and whoever else is involved, be brought to justice?"  
"Regicide is an offense against Underland," Lily replied. "It'd be for the High Queen to make a ruling in the Spirit's name."

Regina exhaled slowly and nodded, staring out into the crowd. Then an incongruously crafty glint came into her eyes.

"We'll search Jack's study, you and I," she decided. "If there's any proof, it'll be there."

* * *

Patience had never exactly been one of Regina's virtues.

That was, perhaps, an unsurprising assumption to draw. She was, after all, the daughter of Alice and the Hatter, and neither of them was a paragon of patience. Regina was a dreamer, and lately a schemer, but patient she was not.

Said lack of patience made it difficult for her to plan out her schemes for the should-be-a-queendom-kingdom. This subversive plotting required so much _waiting_; waiting for her pawns to move into the correct place, waiting for the right time to strike. Like Lily, Regina was impatient; she wanted to do this _now_, and get it over with.

But on the other hand, she also wanted her plans to work. So she'd have to force the patience. Ugh.

Hiding her frustration, Regina smiled up at the Doctor as he approached the table with a teapot. It had been her idea to come here, to subtly question the Doctor and figure out if he'd played a part in Blancmilque's supposed poisoning scheme. Well, to be honest, as far as Lily was concerned the Doctor was undeniably guilty, and this wasn't to be an inquiry so much as an accusation. But Regina did hope that Lily would let her do the talking. She loved Lily, really, but subtle she was not, and Regina wanted to reel the Doctor in before Lily snapped him up.

In that vein, she shot Lily a Look as her cousin twisted impatiently in her seat. Really, if Regina had to be patient, surely Lily could manage to do the same. She was wriggling more than Brax did!

"I'm pleased to see you, Regina," the Doctor said as he poured the cups. "It's been a long while since you came to tea."  
"Yes, well. Madness does tend to put a stop to one's other activities," she demurred.  
"Course it does," the Doctor nodded.  
"I should think Tea Sickness more debilitating than Madness, at least for a Hightopp," Lily commented, sipping her tea. "I'm surprised you failed to notice, Doctor, you such an expert in Teas and all. Doesn't speak much for your skills, if you ask me."  
"Well, I-" he stuttered. "I mean, of course I-"  
"Really, Lily, whyever would the Doctor mention anything about my condition?" Regina asked, steely menace cloaked by sugar sweetness. "After all, to do so would mean admitting to his complicity in my illness."

Utter silence followed her pronouncement, and it was that which told Regina her gamble had paid off. She'd only been guessing, but the stunned, fearful look on the Doctor's face admitted his guilt all too clearly.

"How?" Lily asked, just as flummoxed as the Doctor (and thank heavens for that; hopefully the shock would prevent her from doing anything rash that didn't fall in line with Regina's own plans).  
"Quite simple, really," Regina said pleasantly. "The Doctor is the only man in Isla Affalin allowed to brew Emotion Teas, by my order. So you see, with my own hand I crafted the tool of my destruction." Keeping her smile affixed, she turned her gaze on the Doctor. "You brewed them, the Doubt, Fear, Anger and the rest. But you didn't feed them to me. Who did?"  
"Duchess Afanen," the Doctor replied, his body slumping in defeat.

Regina couldn't help the way all the air left her lungs in a whoosh. It was one thing to openly hate and be hated by the former lover of the man you love. But to receive confirmation that your rival had actively tried to kill you? That was another thing entirely.

Lily reached out and laid her hand over Regina's, and Regina gratefully clung to her cousin's fingers as she struggled to overcome the wave of irrational panic and fear. Oh Fates, what if Afanen tried again, and was successful this time? Regina could almost guarantee that Jack would marry his erstwhile mistress before Regina's body was even cold; how would Crims fare with Afanen as Queen?

The Doctor's voice cut into her panic. "His Majesty told me they were being used on prisoners-"  
"But you knew better, didn't you?" she interrupted, anger and fear stripping the pleasantry from her voice. "You knew the symptoms of Tea addiction, you realized that I was the only prisoner being dosed. And yeh did nothin'."

She stood, watching almost gratefully as the world took on the crystalline clarity of Madness, feeling the Anger stiffen her every muscle until, petite as she was, she towered over the table.

"When ye first cam tae Hatsfield, ye trysted tae make me weel," she snarled, her hands clenching into fists so hard she felt the skin of her palms break. "Noo yoo've broken all those promises, ye pypedau llawn cachu ddiwerth!"  
"Regina!" Lily exclaimed, standing.

It happened quickly, Regina supposed, but with the terrible clarity of her Madness she saw it all unfold in slow motion. Lily reached out— to grab her, to restrain her and stop her. Regina grabbed a saucer and threw it with perfect accuracy, hitting Lily dead between the eyes. While her cousin reeled and saw stars, Regina rushed toward the Doctor's apothecary table, snatching up his sharp herb-cutting knife. She'd taken two steps forward, the knife clenched in her upraised fist, before she was tackled by a blur of white— Lily. Regina screamed in defiance and struggled, before her head cracked against the floor, whiting out her vision.

She blinked rapidly, winded, as her mind quieted and she realized with a sickening dread what she'd done.

She had lost control of herself, again.

She had fallen Mad, again.

She had attacked Lily.

She had broken the White Vow.

She would have killed the Doctor, had Lily not stopped her.

She was no better than Afanen, than Jack, than Iracebeth. Just another Mad Red Royal.

The knife fell from Regina's hand with a sharp clatter as she pushed away from Lily and scuttled backwards until her back hit the cabinets lining all the walls. She stared at them, wide-eyed and reeling, her chest heaving with panicked breaths that failed to deliver enough oxygen into her lungs. Fates, what had she done?

A moment later her senses dulled as she was assaulted by emotions. Panic and alarm, concern, love… Dafydd. _Oh, Dafydd…_ She bowed her head to weak sobs as Dafydd's love and worry wrapped around her through the heart bond, cocooning her from the world as she fell apart.

Groaning softly, Lily forced herself to stand, her head throbbing as she gingerly felt her nose. Definitely bruised, a little swollen, but she was pretty sure nothing was broken. Given how strong Regina became in her Madness, that was something of a miracle.

Slowly, Lily turned toward the Doctor, taking a grim satisfaction in his horrified face as he witnessed exactly what he had done to the Queen he'd sworn to protect. Good; let him stew over that one for a while.

"Technically speaking, what happened to Regina could be considered attempted regicide," she said conversationally. "Which would make you an accomplice. It'd be within her rights to send you before the High Queen for trial."

Lily paused a moment to let that sink in. Really, that was quite a threat she'd just issued; good job, Self. To serve the Doctor up to High Queen Alice for complicity in an attempt to murder Alice's daughter? He'd be lucky if she only deported him back to Jumphasor; it wasn't impossible to think that Alice might order the Doctor killed.

"Fortunately for you, right now you're of more use to Regina alive," she continued. "We suspect the King of poisoning my parents, and now I think you might have been involved in that one, too. Help us prove it, and I won't send you to trial. Who knows, maybe someday Regina may even forgive you."

Having said her piece, Lily turned her attention from the Doctor to Regina. Blank eyes, tears… lovely. Emotional meltdown and the aftermath of Madness. Honestly, where was Gigi's useless hulking Outlander when Lily needed him?

Huffing to herself, Lily pulled Regina up, ignoring her weak struggle and shivering limbs, although the steadily dropping temperature of Gigi's skin was worrying. Not the Chill, too… Right, she refocused. Confrontation over, deal with the Doctor made; time to put Gigi to bed to sleep off the aftermath.

"I'm so so sorry, Lily," Regina whispered through chattering teeth.  
"Shush now," Lily said softly, cradling her cousin in her arms. "I know, Gigi. I know."

* * *

The studies of the four queens of Underland were all private sanctuaries, absolutely forbidden to anyone else except by invitation (or, in Dafydd's case, by Champion's Right). The studies were where the queens did the majority of their work, and were the practical heart of each queendom.

The fact that Regina's study had remained untouched through Jack's claiming of Isla Affalin was a minor miracle.

Dafydd had liked to crack jokes about such a little woman having such an enormous study. He wasn't wrong; the space was less an intimate study and more an entire library nestled within a garden contained in pots and planters, bookcases mingling with potted trees and climbing vines, soaring ceilings and an elaborate stained glass window of a pink rose backlit by a golden starburst, surrounded by a border of golden knotwork against a blue background. In happier times, Dafydd and Regina had spent entire days in the study, watching the window change colors and the pattern dance on the floor.

Today, Regina was blind to the beauty of her surroundings, and the stained glass created its patterns for an audience of none. She sat on the ground, surrounded by stacks of books, though she was only dispiritedly flipping through them.

Lily had brushed off Regina's apologies, saying that she couldn't be held accountable for what Madness made her do. As much as she wanted to believe Lily's stance, Regina couldn't be sure that Underland would agree with her cousin's argument. The White Vow was an unconditional oath; surely Underland would hold her responsible for her transgression. Fates, how could she even _begin_ to atone for what she'd done? Did this mean she was just as Mad and cruel as her predecessor? Was she another evil Queen?

_We're all Mad here…_

Regina flinched. Wonderland's famous motto wasn't especially comforting.

At least Lily was safe from Regina for the time being, she thought ruefully. She'd left for Duke Blancmilque's estate a few hours prior, with the Doctor in tow. Lily had intended to stay in Crims a few more days, to help Regina search Jack's office for the proof of his involvement in Mirana and Kalen's deaths, but Regina had pointed out that they could do more investigating if they split up. So Lily and the Doctor were off to find evidence to prove the Duke— and thus Jack— were guilty of the poisonings. Regina, meanwhile, had barricaded herself in her study in a renewed effort to pour through law tomes to find anything helpful in dealing with this Jack problem.

Now if only she could focus…

She sighed, hugging herself. Glumly, she wished Dafydd was there. How very helpful his calm logic would be just now. Even if he had no answer to the dilemma, it would be enough to lose herself in his embrace, to anchor herself in his incredible strength.

But, she reminded herself sternly, it was too late for that. She had made her choice; she had given up Dafydd to retake her throne. She was alone, and she would have to rely on her own strength. If there was absolution for her sins, she'd have to find it for herself. She had no time for her regrets and fears and weaknesses right now; she had a task to accomplish first. Plenty of time for those emotional burdens later, after she had fixed things.

Resolutely pulling her books closer, Regina settled down to work.

* * *

The first thing she did upon waking was count. How many days had it been? How many more days of freedom did she have? Jack had sent no word since his departure, so she had no idea if he was sticking to his original plan of being gone for a week at the most. It had been five days; how long before her freedom ended?

Regina sat up slowly, groaning as the room spun dizzily around her. She massaged her temples, trying to breathe through the nausea, but she couldn't fight it back. Within moments, she'd flung off the covers and stumbled into the bathroom, barely making it to the commode in time. She hung weakly over the Necessary, panting, tears leaking out of her eyes as a fine sheen of sweat broke out over her body. This nausea and weakness had been the one dark cloud marring her time without Jack; she'd greeted every morning this way, and her stomach turned whenever she smelled or even thought about eggs. Had she come down with some sort of dreadful flu? She really didn't want to lose any of this precious time of freedom to illness.

"Regina, lamb, how long has this been going on?"

Now when had Azalea gotten there, and how had she not heard her maid approach? Regina stirred at Azalea's concerned question, shakily forcing herself to stand.

"Since our return," she admitted, shivering as she splashed cold water on her face. "It usually goes away after I've had some tea."

Azalea's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she said nothing further. She helped Regina into her robe, then led her to the breakfast table, fussing over her. Clover walked in a moment later, rolling the cart of food sent up from the kitchens, and Aderyn followed with Regina's tea chest.

"What are you going to do today?" Clover asked eagerly, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of more rebellion.  
"I thought of going and tidying up Jack's office," Regina said innocently, sipping her tea. "The poor dear, he's in there day and night. I'm sure the place could use a good airing out."

Despite Azalea's fussing and worried clucking, Regina could only manage half the bowlful of berries and one piece of toast before her traitorous stomach decided it was no longer hungry. When she'd had her fill— and the requisite two cups of tea— she stood and walked into her dressing room.

"How long before Arianrhod can have my new things ready?" Regina asked hopefully.  
"A few weeks, lamb," Azalea replied, rifling through the meager remains of Regina's wardrobe.  
"I suppose it's just as well," Regina sighed in disappointment. "No need to immediately arouse Jack's suspicions."

Azalea chose one of her old Witzendian morning gowns; a right proper gown of cerulean with three-quarter length sleeves and delicate cream lace at neck, cuffs and trimming the flounces of the bustle and skirt. Clover even dug up her Hightopp Hat and reverently set it atop her head. If Regina ignored how white her hair was now, she could almost pretend she was still the eighteen-year-old Azure Princess, young and innocent of the world. It was a pretty fantasy; she had always been very good at daydreams.

Aderyn insisted on accompanying her mistress on today's adventure. "You get in too much trouble when I'm not there," she chided. Regina would have argued, but… Well, look at what had happened the last time Regina went somewhere without her little maid. She had broken a sacred Vow and attacked her cousin in a fit of Madness. Again. So Regina didn't try to argue, instead leading Aderyn out the door and toward the stairs.

Jack had taken over a small northern-facing salon two floors up for his study. While it had been months since Regina had had any reason to visit, she still remembered which was the right door.

"Password?" the Knob asked snootily.  
Regina raised a delicate eyebrow. "Excuse me?"  
"Can't let you pass without the word," the Knob explained, and Regina could swear the Knob was looking down its… well… knob at her. "By order of the King."  
"Hang the King," Regina said impatiently. "I am Queen here, with the approval of the Master Latch and the Heart Itself! On their authority, I order you to let me pass."

For a long moment, nothing happened. Regina kept glaring at the stubborn Knob, but inside she was beginning to panic. She had given her blood to the cornerstone, but what if the ritual had failed? What if the castle didn't truly belong to her as well as Jack? Just because she had Latchhook and the Keymaster on her side, that didn't necessarily mean that the rest of the Knobs would revert their loyalty to her. What if this Knob wouldn't let her through? Her plan would fail, and Crims would suffer for it.

_Knobbs…_

Regina jumped, startled by the whisper that seemed to have come from nowhere. She glanced at the Knob before her, surprised to see it quivering.

"Y-Yes, Master?" the Knob asked meekly, its gaze darting to and fro.

Regina blinked in surprise; Master? As in, the Master Latch? Was he coming to her aid?

_Let the Queen pass. She has work to do._

"Y-Yes, Master, of course," Knobbs babbled, quickly twisting himself and opening the door.  
Regina sighed in relief, glancing around the hallway. "Thank you," she called softly, before glancing at Aderyn. "Stand watch for me, would you?"

Aderyn nodded seriously before glancing both ways down the hallway. Making a mental note to give the Master Latch a special oiling later today, Regina stepped through the doorway into Jack's study, quietly shutting the door behind her as she looked around.

She really didn't care for Jack's choice of décor, and his office was definitely the worst example of it. The walls were painted white with a dizzying, psychedelic pattern of black dots. Even though Regina knew that the dots weren't moving, she still got the feeling of motion from the pattern, and it made her feel nauseus again. The furniture reminded Regina of the mushroom forest; a circular base with a long stalk, and then the mushroom cap became the seats, or the chopped-off tops became tables. The carpet was red and stretched from wall to wall; Regina had to work very hard to fight back the feeling that she was walking over an ocean of blood. She hadn't come here to admire Jack's decorating skills, she reminded herself firmly; there was only one thing in this office that interested her.

The only question was, where had Jack hidden it?

She checked all the usual spots one could expect a Ruler to hide something so important— under the rug, in the boot resting on the coffee table, in the fireplace. But each search yielded nothing. Regina frowned; she had been so sure…

Wait. She tilted her head, thinking. Jack had been born here in Crims. But he had been raised in the Aboveground, like she was. He might still think like an Abovegrounder, she realized. She was attacking this question from the wrong direction. The question wasn't where a Wonderlander would keep their most important possession, but rather where a successful man of the Aboveground would hide it?

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Regina walked around Jack's desk. She opened the main drawer… and blinked. Well. That had been completely anticlimactic.

Shrugging, she plucked the large, heavy gold signet ring out of the drawer, closing her fist around it as she shut the drawer again.

She bit her lip, torn. Part of her wanted to flee immediately, irrationally afraid of being caught. But the other half of her wanted to remain a moment, look for evidence that Jack had indeed ordered the murders of Mirana, Kalen and Leferidae. Lily had been such a help to her; the least she could do was try to help her cousin's case. And she could almost guarantee that this was the only time she would ever be alone in Jack's study without the man himself hovering over her shoulder.

The only problem was, Regina had no idea what she might be looking for. Correspondence, potion ingredients, a written confession? Would Jack be so foolish as to leave treasonous materials in the open?

Did Regina even believe that Jack had been involved in the White Royals' deaths? What on earth could he hope to achieve by killing them? Jack was many things, but was he a cold-blooded murderer?

Catching her lip between her teeth, Regina sank onto one of the strange little mushroom chairs. What did she believe? She had lived with Jack for six months now, and they'd been wed for one hundred twenty two agonizing days. Granted, she had been Mad for a good portion of the last six months, but still. Theoretically, no one should know Jack better than she did. So, did she believe that Jack had arranged three murders?

She knew Jack to be calculating; manipulative, even. It made him a shrewd ruler, and a formidable opponent. She thought back to the Suitors' Joust, and the incredibly suspicious manner in which he'd won. There was no evidence that Jack had had a hand in Dafydd's near-fatal poisoning; that was all Afanen (and the fact that Afanen was ruthless enough to poison her former Betrothed said something utterly terrifying about her that Regina didn't have the brainpower to comprehend). But thanks to her, Jack had won Regina's hand. And then who should be installed in the Court as a Duchess, and Jack's not-so-secret mistress?

So yes, Regina had first-hand experience with how ruthless Jack could be. By the Aliblay, hadn't he been the one to lock her away in the isolated North Tower? And who had fed her the Teas that drove her Mad? Jack's mistress, again. What would have happened to her, had she not overdosed on Tea during Lily's Queenmaking? Would Jack ever have released her from captivity and gotten her help for her Tea addiction, or would she have wasted away until she died?

The thought drew Regina up short. Fates alive, she had never thought of it like that. But that was the reality, wasn't it? Jack had tried to _kill_ her. He'd succeeded in taking her crown, but he had very nearly taken her life, as well.

If he'd been willing to go so far against his wife, what was stopping him from acting against his aunt?

A shudder of absolute dread flew up Regina's spine. Stars above, what kind of monster had she married?

Panic clawed its way up her throat, and she wrapped her arms around herself as the Chill blossomed in the pit of her stomach. Oh God, oh God… If Jack had tried to kill her once, what was stopping him from trying again? Oh God, she wasn't safe here. She needed to flee; she needed to run before Jack came home and tried to finish the job.

Jerking out of her seat, Regina lurged to the door, staggering out into the hall.

"Milady!" Aderyn yelped, rushing to her side as Regina sank in a quivering heap to the floor. "Mistress, what's happened?"

Regina clutched at her diminutive maid, unable to speak through the fear. Think, think; she needed to get out, she needed a plan.

Whimpering, she pressed her fists to her temples, before she became cognizant of something in her left hand. Opening her fist, she cried out weakly when she saw Jack's signet ring. Right, she needed to get rid of this first. She may be in mortal danger, but she had to protect Crims.

Struggling to draw an even breath, Regina forced herself to close her fingers. A sparkle caught her attention, and for a long moment she stared at the large ruby on her finger; the symbol of hers and Jack's Binding. She shuddered again; now more than ever the ring seemed like a shackle, chaining her to a monster with blood on his hands.

Clenching her jaw, she removed the ring from her finger. There was no way to undo the Vows she'd spoken, but there was no reason to wear his ring, or even to remain under the same roof as him.

"Milady? Can you hear me?" Aderyn asked, searching Regina's face for any sign of recognition.  
"I have something I need to do," Regina said faintly. "Go back to my rooms and have Azalea and Clover pack a trunk for me. I'm going home."

Swallowing hard, Regina forced herself to stand and set her path through the palace, down to the Cornerstone Chamber.

She paused on the threshold, curling into herself in fear. She could feel the malevolent, chaotic Darkness behind the broken Doorway, shifting and coiling on itself like a feral, caged animal. Oily tendrils seemed to seep from the cracks, grabbing at her hair and skirts. Od's Breech, what terrible influence had Jack unleashed upon their country? And how on earth did she combat it?

_Strong_, she told herself. _I must be strong. Dafydd isn't here anymore; I have to Champion myself_.

"I've brought you something," she said to the Door, hoping her voice sounded stronger than it did in her head.

She thought she could feel the Darkness stir, almost like it was tilting a head in interest.

_I am the Champion's daughter_, she reminded herself. _I am not afraid_.

Strangely, the voice that came to mind wasn't Alice's, but Agnes Ascot's.

_Straight back, head high… act as though you are in complete control of the room until the dissemination becomes verity. Behave as a princess and that is exactly how you will be treated._

Weirdly, as she approached the door she could feel the Darkness retreating, like it had decided to stand down before her. Well, that was polite of it; it seemed the Darkness had better manners than her husband.

Regina reached for the Door with trembling fingers and gingerly pulled it open a crack; just far enough to throw her and Jack's rings in before slamming the Door shut again. She heard the Darkness purr and pull in on itself; she fancied she could feel it wrapping around the rings.

A moment later she felt a searing pain inside her head, like the very worst migraine. She screamed in pain at the sensation of her head splitting in two. Then came a great sucking feeling that stole the air from her lungs, that whited out her vision and seemed to stop her heart as she felt something being sucked from her very core.

Then— heat, light, a golden note that emanated from within her with all the power of the Hightopps' Music. She felt her soul resettle in her body, as something dark and foreign recoiled from the Power.

The Door swung open, and Regina stared in horror as a shred of oily Blackness seeped from her pores, slithering through the Doorway before it slammed shut again.

When it was over and everything was quiet, Regina stood shakily, staring at the Doorway that had just so nearly killed her.

Alright, maybe Dafydd had a point when he accused her of getting in trouble whenever she was left alone for five minutes.

With an unsteady exhale, she wrapped her arms around her middle, breathing a silent thank you to the Music that had saved her life. Then she turned and slipped into the secret passageway, making her way to her own rooms.

Purposefully keeping her mind free of any thoughts of Jack or the abomination he served, Regina crossed into her rooms, shutting the door behind her before clambering through the armoire and into the safe embrace of the Heart.

_Safe.  
Protect me.  
Safe.  
I'm afraid.  
Darkness can't come here. Safe. Alive.  
I nearly died.  
Alive. Safe. Here._

She curled into the Heart's embrace, allowing herself to float, to drift, to relax. She was alive; she was safe; she was protected. For now, it was enough.

When she awoke a timeless eternity later, she was in her bed, her hands folded over her stomach. When she sat up and opened her fist, she stared at her new seal.

A butterfly, crowned by five rays of light and surrounded by a wreath of grape leaves.

She trembled, staring at the symbol of sovereignty in her hand. Crims had taken her back; despite her failures and transgressions, the Heart had reclaimed her.

Drawing a steadying breath, Regina, Queen of Hearts raised her chin.

For her safety, for the safety of her queendom and the Heart she served, she had to flee to safety. She needed to return Home, to the Music that had saved her life.

* * *

Regina shivered in her carriage, burrowing more deeply into the furs as she looked out the window. Really, when was Winter going to release its grip on Underland? For goodness' sake, it was April! She was so sick of snow and cold; she was dying for Spring to beat back the cold.

Still, she was happy to be out of the palace and on her way to Witzend, where she'd arranged to stay with her parents until the weather improved, at which point she and her athair would relocate to Tearmunn for the summer. It had been a long time since she was well enough to attend a Tea Party; she had missed her parents, and her little brother. How much time had she lost with Brax during her Madness, she thought wistfully. Fates, she hardly recognized the busy little toddler he'd become sometime during her Tea Sickness.

She was surprised to see no strangers around the table as she walked into the greenhouse where Tarrant held his weekly Tea Parties during the winter; it was only Alice, Tarrant, Brax, Marchioness Gwen, Thackery, and judging from the snores issuing from one of the teapots, Mally. It was unusual to have a quiet Tea Party. Due to Alice's aggressive trade policies, there were nearly always ambassadors visiting Berserka, and they were always invited to the Tea Table.

"Where are the diplomats?" Regina asked, kissing both her parents' cheeks before sinking into her chair on Tarrant's left.  
"There are none, at present," Tarrant reported happily.  
Regina blinked. "Are you ill, Mama?"  
Alice's lips quirked in a smile. "Not ill, merely Mad."  
"All the best people are!" Tarrant exclaimed, bouncing Brax on his lap.

Regina stared at her little brother, wonder and regret mingling in her eyes as she absorbed all the changes she hadn't been fully able to catalogue, even during her long convalescence in Hatsfield. How he'd grown! He was a toddler now, though as wriggly and happy as he'd been as an infant. His blond curls had grown into a halo encircling his head; his eyes seemed to have settled on a light shade of honey brown. He still had his rosebud mouth, but he'd lost much of his baby fat. Fates, he was starting to look so much like Alice. And Regina had missed all these changes; lost them to Madness and Tea.

But he was still her sweet baby; he squealed and wriggled, lifting his arms to be held as he happily babbled to her. Regina beamed, cuddling the little boy close and babbling back at him. But when Tarrant placed the plate with Brax's lunch on it before them, Regina paled, quickly handing her brother back to Tarrant as she gagged at the smell of the scrambled eggs.

"Regina?" Alice asked, frowning.  
"The eggs," Regina moaned, moving to a chair upwind of the plate. "I must have developed an allergy, the smell makes me sick. Ugh."

Alice's gaze snapped to Tarrant's, whose eyes were wide with shocked remembrance. Handing Abraxas to Alice, Tarrant quickly whipped up a sweetmint-soothease tea blend he'd developed, many years ago when Alice's nausea had become particularly bad. For her part, Alice took in her daughter's appearance with a practiced eye. The evident nausea, her pallor, the shadows beneath her eyes, her slightly swollen breasts… Alice's eyes narrowed in suspicion. This required a nose far superior to hers…

"Scraps," she said suddenly. "Come out from under the table, you little rascal. Come meet your mistress."

Regina frowned in confusion, but her face twisted in delight as a fuzzy little head popped up over the edge of the table. The little pink nose was followed by two little paws, and then, with an agile leap, the Kitten was sitting on the table, looking inquisitively at Regina as his tail flicked.

She could see why he had been named Scraps; he looked like a walking scrapbag. She couldn't even tell what his base color might be, there were so many different-colored splotches on his body, including a rakish black patch over one eye. Even his eyes were different colors; one blue, one hazel. He tilted his head, looking at Regina, then bounded over to her with an excited mew.

"Oh, you're adorable," Regina cooed, gathering him into her arms and smiling as the Kitten purred and nuzzled her neck.  
"Your father found him at the Brae, poor thing, half-dead with the cold," Alice explained. "We know you've missed Witzend since she became the Cheshire, we thought perhaps you'd like to have another Kitten."

Oh, how well her parents knew her. Regina had been horribly lonely without Witzend. She missed being able to curl up with her Kitten at night, missed her meows and purring, and especially missed watching Witzend and Dafydd not get along. She had wanted to get another pet; how wonderful that this little bundle of scraps had come her way!

"Thank you, Mama," Regina said, her eyes glowing. "Thank you, Da."  
"Of course, Sugar Cube," Tarrant nodded in satisfaction.  
"You smell good," Scraps purred, kneading Regina's stomach as she scratched behind his ears. "So does he."  
"He?" Regina questioned, confused.  
Scraps nodded, curling up and pressing his ear against her stomach. "When's he coming out? Will we be friends?"

Regina stared at Scraps, her mind stuttering and screeching to a sudden stop.

_He… coming out…_

"Oh… Fates," she breathed, her eyes wide as she stared at her stomach.

Now she could never escape Jack.

For a moment, she reeled, dizzy with shock and disappointment. A child… She'd wanted a child so badly, once. It had been a secret dream, one she'd never whispered to anyone, even after she and Dafydd had declared themselves and he'd given her their Heart Rock. But oh, how she had dreamed of a baby, with Dafydd's dark blue eyes and his heart-melting dimpled grin. Once upon a time, she had wanted a child, simply for the joy of creating a new life with the man she loved.

This wouldn't be a baby, she knew. This was a pawn, a bargaining chip, a weapon in a long game. She would never be able to relax and love this child simply as her son, because he would always be her way back to her throne.

And she would always fear the parts of him that had come from his father. She would always worry about what sort of Madness her son had inherited, and whether he would destroy Crims as his father had done. Could she ever love this child? Could she ever see him as anything other than a bomb, a tool that might turn on her and destroy her instead of defending her from his father?

Sharply, she reined those thoughts in and drew a deep breath, forcing herself to be pleased. This was what she had been waiting for, after all; this was the final piece she needed to start her game. This child was how she was going to protect her queendom, and now she could really get to work. This was a good thing, she tried to convince herself.

Even if a pregnancy meant that she couldn't hide in safety in her homeland. She would have to return to Crims, now; a child of the King and Queen of Hearts would need to be gestated in Crims, bathed in the power of the Heart.

She would never be free.

"A baby," she breathed, leaning back and staring into middle space.  
"I'm so happy for you, sweetheart," Alice said.  
"What? Oh. Oh, yes. Thank you, Mama," Regina said distantly, forcing a smile on her face as she stood to receive her mother's hug.

Tarrant remained seated, quietly watching his daughter. This was wrong; this was terribly, terribly wrong. Regina should be overjoyed at the prospect of becoming a mother, despite the fact of the bairn's father. This should be a happy revelation, a joyous thing to look forward to; she shouldn't look as though she were being marched to the executioner's block.

By all the Days in Underland, a child. Tarrant leaned back in his armchair, rubbing a hand over his face. This would change things. This was… Yes, this definitely meant changes.

Quietly, Tarrant glanced at Mally, who was solemnly peeking over the edge of her teapot as though she knew Tarrant had a task for her.

"Dafydd needs to be told," he said softly.

Mally nodded, gracefully leaping out of the teapot and scampering off. Tarrant watched her leave, then forced himself to stand and hitch Brax onto his hip, following his wife and daughter as they headed for the Palace.

He had no idea what this would mean for the future, but whatever happened, he needed to be there for his daughter.

* * *

Despite himself, Gregan had come to love the sea.

He wasn't particularly happy in Accor. How could he be? He was in exile, separated from his family, the Music of the Hightopps, his home in Annwyn. He didn't know whether he would ever be able to return home, or what sort of reception would be waiting for him. Would King Jack have him executed for escaping, for inadvertently being party to treason for a Queen he didn't even like? Would he have a home to return to, if this was ever over?

Not only was Gregan exiled (yes yes, it was for his own protection, but that didn't change the facts), but he'd been banished to the same place as the Adamasi, his clan's old enemy. He wondered if that was a punishment, to send him into the company of those he'd been taught to hate. Yes, he knew Ioan was marrying into their family, but that didn't have to mean Gregan had to like them.

At least Ioan had arranged for his music lessons to continue. That was something, anyway. He might be half a world away from his entire life, but at least he still had music to express himself. He could say that much for Accor; they loved music as much as he did, and no one found it odd if he chose to spend the whole day at the harpsichord. His valet hadn't even batted an eyelid when Gregan silently recruited him to help move the instrument onto the balcony, so he could enjoy his music and the sea at the same time.

Ah yes, the Sea. Despite the fact that the water was the physical barrier separating him from his family, Gregan had come to love the Sea in all its infinite shades and moods. He could write a symphony to the sound of the Sea, and lace it with all his troubles and sorrows.

"You're very good."

He stopped playing abruptly as the voice floated up to him. Clenching his jaw, he glanced over his balcony railing to the gardens below.

Gregan's suite was on the second floor, just above the gardens where the Adamasi liked to play. He'd seen this princess a couple of times, walking alone or with Ioan. Nerissa, he thought he'd heard Ioan call her. There was something different about her, compared to her siblings; she didn't seem all there in the head. He wondered if she, like Regina, was Mad.

"Do you mind if I sit here and listen a while?" the little Princess asked, curling up on a chaise placed beneath his balcony.

He considered the question for a moment. True, she was an Adamasi, and he was playing very private music. But they didn't have to talk, and they were separated by the balcony. If she kept quiet, he could pretend that he was still alone.

Decision made, he turned back to the harpsichord and began to play.

They were both silent; he played, and she listened. He played for a long time, chasing melodies and memories, exorcising the emotions that rolled over him in waves in time with the waves that pounded the shore, never seeming to release him from their suffocating grip and robbing him of speech. Eventually, the music left him, and they simply sat.

"It sounds the way I feel," Nerissa said after a while, and her voice sounded like she might have been crying. "It sounds like everything that hurts inside, since my parents died and my sister sent us here." She was quiet for a long minute. "Thank you for playing that."

Mutely, he watched as she walked away, disappearing into the flowers as though she'd never been there at all.

* * *

Regina was enjoying a quiet tea in the private solar in her suite, one hand resting on her still-flat abdomen and the other buried in Scraps' fur as he curled on her lap, head pressed into her stomach as though he could hear her child talking. It was peaceful; she could probably spend the rest of her day like this, and who would ever notice?

Yes, she was hiding, and she had no plans to emerge any time soon. She may have been forced to abandon her plans to escape Crims, but that didn't mean she had to mingle with anyone. Crims had survived just fine while she'd been locked away in isolation; there was no reason it couldn't go on surviving now.

She didn't open her eyes as the door opened; maybe, if whoever it was thought she was asleep, they'd leave, and she could continue to be on her own.

"Regina?" came Mary's voice.

Well, blast the Trees. She couldn't very well ignore Mary. Yawning, she indulged in a lazy stretch, not needing to fake her eyes being reluctant to open.

"Mmm?" she asked. "What is it?"  
"The guards at the city gate sent word," Mary said. "Jack's on his way to the palace."

Well, damn.

She'd known this was coming, of course. Jack's hunting trip was only ever going to be temporary. She'd known he would come home at some point, and their delicate chess game would continue. But Od's Breech, she had never been more unwilling to play the game. How on earth was she going to survive the rest of her life, married to a monster and mothering a child that she would always fear?

She held herself very, very still, triyng to master the Fear that blossomed in her chest. Oh Fates, how was she going to do this?

Swallowing hard, she met Mary's concerned gaze. Reminding herself that the Heart had chosen her only days ago, that she was the Queen and that she had the strength to do this, she quickly considered her options.

"I'll greet him in the solarium downstairs," she decided. "Can you make sure we're not disturbed? I have to tell him the… good news," she said, rubbing her belly.  
"Of course," Mary nodded. "Good luck."

As Mary withdrew, Regina stood, focusing less on determining a plan and more on remaining calm. She was nervous; revealing her pregnancy to Jack would make it more real, somehow. It would certainly mean changes, both between them and for Crims. She wondered if she was ready; she wondered if readiness mattered. She'd make it work somehow; after all, she had no other choice.

She considered changing her clothes, then quickly changed her mind. She'd rather not keep Jack waiting, and anyway, what sort of outfit was even appropriate to announce a pregnancy?

"Shall I come with you, milady?" Aderyn asked, standing as Regina walked into the sitting room.  
"No," Regina said. "This needs to be between me and Jack. Could you have tea ready for… whenever I get back?"

Aderyn nodded, and Clover and Azalea gave her encouraging looks as she headed for the door.

She made it to the solarium in good time, and took up residence in a plush armchair, smiling faintly as Scraps leapt into her lap again.

"Are we playing hopscotch or musical chairs?" he asked, kneading her stomach. "Coz otherwise there's no reason to keep changing seats just as I get comfy."  
Regina smiled, rubbing behind Scraps' ears. "We're welcoming my husband home, and telling him about your new friend."  
"Why?" Scraps asked, wrinkling his nose. "He's your baby, not his!"  
"I think Jack would disagree," Regina said dryly.

Scraps opened his mouth to argue, but the sight of a pair of blue-green eyes floating in midair silenced him. The Cheshire Cat's gaze quite clearly communicated that he was to say nothing; far be it from him to contradict her. If the Cheshire had a reason for not wanting Regina to know the truth, then Scraps would keep his mouth shut.

Moments later, the door opened, and Jack entered. Upon looking at him, Regina's heart wrenched and started beating faster, and she drew a shaky breath as she fought her unease and stood to greet him. Oh, he was angry; about the small strides she'd made in reclaiming her independence, or something else entirely?

"Welcome home, Jack," she said faintly.

Maybe she should have had Aderyn come with her after all, to ensure that Jack behaved.

He scoffed, advancing on her like an agitated predator. "Welcome home. As if you didn't know how many times your lover's tried to kill me this past week."  
"What?" Regina breathed, feeling her insides freeze as they always did when Jack mentioned Dafydd.  
"Don't act the innocent," he snapped, a manic look in his eyes as he advanced on her. "He's doing it all on your order, isn't he? Make me look like a Mad fool? Kill me and make it look like an accident?"  
"Jack, I don't-" she said shakily.

Her words died in her throat as he slid a hand onto her neck, thumb sliding across as though he were contemplating strangling her.

"I thought I'd made it clear that there was to be one master here, Regina," he said, all the more menacing for how quiet he was.  
"Jack, I swear, I d-don't know what you're t-talking about," she stammered, shuddering as her skin rose in goosebumps and the first violent shiver raced down her spine. "I've b-been faithful t-to you, I s-swear it!"

Jack scoffed again, then hissed, hastily withdrawing his hand, which bore four fresh claw marks starting to well with blood.

"You stop that, you bad, mad man!" Scraps hissed, ears flattening as his hackles rose and he bared his teeth and claws. "Don't you threaten my Mistress when she's carrying my friend!"

Jack glared at the Kitten, impatience and confusion warring in his gaze before he returned attention to Regina.

"What is it talking about?" he demanded.

Regina swallowed in a vain attempt to wet her throat, struggling to force the words past the Chill.

"I-I'm g-going t-to have a b-baby."

Jack stared at her blankly for a long moment. The eerie wildness left his eyes as he blinked, oddly reminding Regina of watching her da recover from a bout of Madness.

"A baby?" he repeated, his hand sliding from her neck down to her shoulder.  
She gave a tiny nod. "A son. Our son," she croaked.

Jack drew a slow, deep breath, and Regina could watch him collecting himself until he was his usual calm, controlled self.

"This is wonderful news, darling," he said smoothly, plucking her left hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles as if he hadn't just been threatening her. "We must make an announcement at once. And you must rest," he commanded. "We'll send for the Doctor at once."  
"Of course, Jack," she said faintly, watching him leave.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Regina collapsed gracelessly into her chair, bending forward until her forehead nearly touched her knees, and wrapping her arms around her torso as the shudders of the Chill hit her hard.

What in Underland's thousand names had just happened? Jack had been menacing since their Blessing, but he had never threatened her physically before. He had looked unhinged when he mentioned Dafydd, almost like…

Regina shuddered again, screwing her eyes shut. _Dafydd, what have you been up to_, she wondered, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't given him up so he could get himself killed. If only she could contact him, warn him off of antagonizing Jack… if he even was. She would have to talk to the Albion, find out what had happened that made Jack think he was being targeted…

Curling in on herself, Regina sighed. And here she'd thought things would be easier once she got her sanity restored…

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: I realize that one specific part of this chapter got way more overtly magical and fantasy-based than is usual for this saga (which, given that this is Wonderland, is really saying something). I apologize for any genre whiplash you may be experiencing right now. But I swear it's not coming out of nowhere; I promise I have a plan for this, and the plan is not to turn Regina into an anime magical girl.

pypedau llawn cachu ddiwerth: (Welsh) useless shit-filled puppet. Dai has been rubbing off on Gigi in some really bad ways.

There will be two BTP chapters coming up next. Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are.


	8. Hope Springs

**Author's Note**: I've complained many times that during the editing process, my chapters tend to expand in length, sometimes dramatically. I think this chapter marks the first time in the entire series that I've actually _lost_ pages while editing (I should call it a near-complete rewrite, honestly). The first version of this chapter was about 25 pages long, and… oh god, it was trying to do _way_ too much at once. Fortunately, while writing the last _BTP_ chapter I got a much clearer idea of what I was trying to do here, and how to make that happen, so I was able to let go of about nine pages' worth of things that didn't need to be here. That feels like an important stride forward for my writing, so yay!

**Warning**: Because this chapter picks up pretty much exactly where the last _BTP_ chapter left off, there's gonna be some aftermath depictions in here – specifically, the physical after-effects of marital rape. There's also a brief, but present, discussion of abortion. Later on in the chapter we have a pretty gruesome character death, and a sex scene (it's kinda read-between-the-lines, but still). Personally, I don't feel like this chapter is as bad as the last _BTP_ chapter was, but please be mindful of your triggers and/or squick.

**Special Thanks**: As always, thanks to Ranguvar27 for the expert beta! This chapter is dedicated to Drachegirl14, because I promised her a ray of sunlight in the middle of this ridiculous volcanic hurricane.

* * *

Sometimes, Noble wanted to _strangle_ her Doctor.

The man wasn't even here at the moment, and he was still driving her bleeding crazy. It was a special talent of his. It would be impressive, if it wasn't so very annoying.

Now, admittedly, it was a lovely morning. Sunny and warm, a wonderful change from the chill, damp Spring they'd been suffering through so far. But sweet Fates, it was _so early_. The Sun had _barely_ made her way over the horizon. Most of the Court wasn't even awake yet. The only reason Noble was awake was because she didn't sleep very well when the Doctor was gone. He'd taken off for Tearnan Beo with Queen Lily, leaving her behind in case the Queen had a medical emergency.

And as a bonus, he'd left his wonder-cursed rocks. _Everywhere_. Strewn on every available horizontal surface. With a few bonus on the floor. Which she had found. With her bare feet. At _Stupid O'Clock_ in the morning.

Her impressive streak of cursing was interrupted when the door burst open and a small bundle of flurried energy came barreling through. When she skidded to a stop, Noble recognized the little Hightopp girl who was now serving as the Queen's handmaiden.

"Noble, you need to come quick," the wee lass gasped, her dark eyes wide in her pale face. "The King was with her last night, it's… it's bad."  
Noble took a step forward before pausing. "Are you sure you don't want-?"  
Aderyn cut her question off with an impatient shake of the head. "Has to be you, you're the midwife."  
"Of course," Noble demurred.

She hobbled into her chamber for her leather satchel of midwifery supplies (and boots, to protect her poor abused bruised toes) before heading out the door on Aderyn's heels. She bit her lip as she followed Aderyn through the halls to the Queen's chamber. She meant the question she hadn't been allowed to finish; she might be a midwife, but she wasn't a Doctor. She understood that the Queen had valid reasons not to trust the Doctor, but did she have any further cause to trust the Doctor's Companion?

As she entered the Queen's suite, Noble realized that whether the Queen trusted her was beyond the point.

The receiving chamber and inner parlor were both dark and silent. The Queen's three maids were all in her bedchamber, quietly holding vigil over their mistress. The bedroom was horribly warm; the fireplace blazed and a small brazier had been lit next to the bed where the Queen lay prone, clutching a pillow as she slept.

As Clover drew back the numerous blankets Regina had been swaddled in, Noble was hard pressed to contain her horrified gasp. The Queen was liberally covered in bruises and bite marks that clearly spoke to sexual attack.

"By the Aliblay," Noble whispered. "The King did this?"

Her spine stiffened at Azalea's chilly nod. Fates, she'd known Jack and Regina's Joining wasn't a happy one, but she hadn't known it was this bad…

"How often does this happen?" she asked.  
"It's never been this bad," Clover replied. "We don't know what happened."

Noble shook her head, then reached for her bag. She'd tend the injuries first; all told, that might be easier than caring for the unborn babe.

Regina woke up as Noble was applying a salve to the bite on her shoulder. Though still stiff and muzzy from the Chill, her eyes were clear of Madness as they focused.

"Noble?" she asked hoarsely (Had she screamed last night? Had anyone heard her?).  
"Do you remember what happened to you, your Majesty?" Noble asked gently.

Regina's face clouded, and her entire body tensed as her gaze fell to her bruised wrists, purple and mottled and probably very painful. Slowly, she nodded.

"Jack was Mad," she said, barely audible. "I'd worn a dress, he… I shouldn't have worn it around him," she said helplessly.  
"Oh, hey, no," Noble countered, shaking her head and sinking onto the edge of the mattress. "No no, this wasn't your fault. No one deserves to be treated like this."  
Regina shook her head. "I know my duty. Men have needs… I'm his wife, I should…"  
"Blast the Trees," Noble said blankly. "What sort of Uplandish nonsense is that?"

The Chill didn't quite allow Regina to blush, but she did squirm with embarrassment.

"Your Maj— Regina," Noble said, impulsively grabbing the Queen's cold fingers and willing the younger woman to look at her. "No man, not even a husband, has the right to force himself on you whenever he wants. And he certainly doesn't have the right to hurt you. This was not your fault. What Jack has done is monstrous, and he should be punished for it."

Regina's lower lip trembled, but she visibly reigned herself in, refusing to cry. Noble bit her lip, but silently agreed to drop the subject for now.

"Lean back for me?" she requested. "I want to check and make sure the baby's alright."  
Regina's face twisted in something like apprehension. "Do you think he… might not make it?"

Noble paused at the odd tone in Regina's voice. She looked up in silent question, softening as the tears Regina held back earlier now flowed freely down her face.

"Regina?" Noble asked, shifting closer.  
"I can't do this," she whispered, looking horrified (traumatized). "I can't have Jack's child. Oh God, Noble, I _can't_. I'm so afraid."

Cooing in sympathy, Noble wrapped her arms around Regina, rocking her like a child. She said nothing as a jumble of frantic Outlandish spilled from the Queen's mouth; _mo laoch_ and _ma taavi_ and something that sounded like _I'm sorry_.

"Do you… want… to get rid of it?" Noble asked hesitantly.  
"I… I don't know," Regina said helplessly. "I can't fathom having Jack's baby, I… But I don't know if I can kill my child. But I'm so afraid he'll turn out like his father, and I _can't_…"  
Noble hugged Regina close again. "How 'bout this. I'll convince Jack to let you go home for a while. For the baby's health, we'll say; he's a Hightopp, he needs to be near the Hill, yeah? He needs clan magic?" At Regina's hesitant nod, Noble continued on. "I'll send you with some books about pregnancy and parenthood, and a potion to… end it, if that's what you decide. You go home, spend some time with your parents, think about it. Don't decide right now."

Regina nodded hesitantly, docilely laying back as Noble eased her down.

"Now, let's have a look at you both," she smiled.

* * *

As she rushed down the hallway, Noble fought to keep her features calm. She really wasn't good at marshalling her emotions, but she could try.

Stars above, how had no one realized how utterly Mad Jack was? By the time Regina had looked this feral, Jack had locked her away in the North Tower "for her safety." Hadn't many of the Heart Nobles lived through Iracebeth's reign? How could they not realize that her son was falling prey to the same Madness? Or were they just choosing not to see?

Quickly, Noble made her way back to the suite she shared with the Doctor. She quietly locked herself in her bedroom, checking for stray Interlopers before breathing on her Looking Glass and writing Alice's name in the fog.

When the fog cleared, Noble was looking into the High Queen's study in Berserka. Alice sat curled up in a big leather armchair in a position that didn't look even remotely comfortable, poring over a thick book. Tarrant lay on his stomach on the ground beside her, playing cat's cradle with Abraxas.

"Excuse me, your Majesties," Noble said hesitantly. "Might I have a word?"  
Alice looked up, blinking in confusion. "Who-? Oh. Noble, isn't it?"  
"Yes, your Majesty," Noble nodded.  
"Do you have news about our daughter?" Tarrant asked.

Noble looked at the Hatter, taken aback with what she saw. He looked like he hadn't slept, possibly for days; the shadows under his eyes were darker than usual, and his anxious eyes were bloodshot.

Noble's brow furrowed. "How did you-?"  
"Clan magic," he said shortly. "What's happened to her?"  
"She's not safe here," Noble said. "She's… Jack isn't well."  
"He attacked her," Tarrant said flatly.  
"I'm concerned about her safety and health," she said carefully.  
Now it was Alice's turn to frown. "Are you qualified for that?"  
"I was in training to be a Doctor meself, until mine came along," Noble replied. "Ended up as a Companion, but I got trained as a midwife. Regina's maids asked me to come take a look at her this morning, after… Well. After."  
"Are they alright?" Tarrant asked, sitting up.  
"She will be," Noble said carefully. "But I am worried about her in delivery."  
"Why is that?" Alice asked, a nervous edge to her voice. "She's perfectly healthy, isn't she?"  
"She's… she's very small in stature," Noble said. "And the baby's father… He's a large man. I think the baby will take after his size, not his mother's."  
Tarrant froze, the look on his face turning from fear to dread. "You can't mean…"

Noble didn't answer in words; she merely raised her eyebrows as she dipped her head.

It was enough.

"Oh," Alice breathed. "Oh dear."  
"I went to speak to the King, after I saw the Queen," Noble continued her report. "He's agreed to send Regina to Tearmunn for the duration of her pregnancy. I don't… know what can be done to protect her, after the baby's born."  
"Oh, have no fear of that," Alice replied, a thread of Champion's steel lacing her voice. "We will keep our daughter safe."

As Noble cut off the connection, Alice and Tarrant stared at each other. There was a breathless moment of silence, weighted down by fear, fury, disbelief, desperation. They inhaled together… and then exploded into frantic movement. Tarrant snatched up Abraxas and called for the servants as Alice raced to the armory, screaming for General Koda.

They had failed their daughter so many times throughout her life. They would not fail in this.

* * *

It was, perhaps, a trifle too chill to be sitting in the back gardens, particularly with the Chill still lingering in her veins. But she was warmly bundled against the chilly spring air, and sitting outside was preferable to being trapped indoors. At least out here she could pretend she wasn't under glorified house arrest. She could look out over the vineyard and beehives, and pretend that everything was normal. Even if she had never come here when everything was normal. She was very good at pretending.

The ducal estate of Annwyn had always represented a sore spot to Regina. It was the land and title she had granted to Dafydd after the disastrous Battle of the Brae, after he had kissed her (twice) and rejected her so brutally. She couldn't think of Annwyn without remembering those terrible words he'd spat at her from the depths of his Madness.

_You've driven me Mad, Regina. I was fine, before you. I was respected, I was powerful, I was at peace. But that wasn't good enough for you, was it? You had to tear me apart, didn't you? Take me apart and remake me, and put yourself in the center of it all. My loyalties were never divided, before you, and now look at me. I killed my own brother for you. I'm no better than a worthless Hightopp now. They stood by and let their own kinsmen be exiled. They betrayed their own blood. And now I've done the same. I've betrayed my family, and for what? For what?!_

She hadn't held anything he'd said against him— he'd been Mad after all, and grieving the death of his brother besides. But she had taken his words to heart in another way, arguably a more damaging way. Thanks to those venomous words, she had become convinced that Dafydd didn't care for her, that she had crafted an elaborate fairy tale and utterly ignored the reality that he hated her. Eventually, she had agreed to hold the Fates-forsaken Suitors' Joust, so convinced had she become that he would never love her.

The physical fact of Annwyn had become wrapped up in all of their emotional baggage— birthed of pain and anger, a representation of everything separating them and all of her broken dreams. Of course Regina had always declined Dafydd's invitations to visit.

So of course, of _course_ Jack had chosen to ensconce (imprison) her at Annwyn for the remaining duration of her pregnancy.

It was terrible for her here. Dafydd was a ghost haunting her every step and thought, and the memories the ghost stirred weren't especially happy ones. Yes, Annwyn was the place the pair of them had finally confessed their love. But that confession had come on the heels of Dafydd very nearly dying of poison, so that did color the memory somewhat.

And of _course_ Jack had claimed that bedroom, Dafydd's bedroom, for their use. She couldn't imagine how she was going to face going to bed tonight; how could she lay in Dafydd's bed with Jack? She clearly had no problem sullying her marriage bed with adultery, but she couldn't condone sharing the bed of her Beloved with her husband.

She didn't have very long to figure out a solution, either. Jack hadn't come with her to Annwyn this morning; he'd claimed that he had a meeting and work to do. But he'd promised (threatened?) to join her by that evening.

Maybe she just wouldn't sleep tonight at all. She had spied a small parlor on the second floor; she could plead a headache and retreat there for the night.

And she'd have plenty of reading material to keep her company. True to her promise, Noble had packed a number of scrolls and books into her traveling chest. Regina and Aderyn had exchanged dismayed glances at the small mountain of material, but Regina was grateful now. She still hadn't decided whether she wanted to keep the baby, but maybe there was something in these scrolls that could help her make up her mind.

Tucked into the large chest were also three folios filled with parchment— decrees and bills that Jack had been drafting, but wouldn't be able to pass into law without his seal.

"Don't ask how I got my hands on these," Mary had said, grinning craftily. "You're safer not knowing. Just… do something about them."

Her wonderful, brash, reckless Mary… She truly hoped her friend wouldn't land herself in hot water for her insubordination. In any event, Regina would most certainly do something about the laws; it was about time she took back the reins of her government.

But all of that would have to wait for the cover of nightfall. Until then, she would have to endure being in this unhappy place; stripped of the comfort of her maids, surrounded by enemies, and missing the one person who could make her memories beautiful.

As she pet her little ball of scraps Kitten, Regina worried at the Queenmaking ring with her thumb. Very quietly, she began to sing to herself; a love song of the Hightopps, that she used to hum in her Madness when she needed the comfort of Dafydd's love.

_Throw my cards, gave you my heart. Wish we could start all over. Nothing's making sense at all. Try to open up my eyes; I'm hoping for a chance to make it alright. When I wake up, the dream isn't done. I wanna see your face and know I made it home. If nothing is true, what more can I do? I am still painting flowers for you…_

* * *

Lily had never met the former Duchess of Tearnan Beo. Her Aunt Iracebeth had raised her faithful toady to the rank long after the Red Queen had exiled Mirana, and after Iracebeth's overthrow Mirana hadn't folded the Heart Nobles into the White Court. Even when Regina had taken the Crown, the reclusive Duchess hadn't returned to Court, or even acknowledged that Iracebeth was gone.

But Lily knew the woman by reputation. She had been bad-tempered and capricious, cruel to her servants and a terror to the people of her duchy. From what Lily understood, the woman had died mysteriously and unlamented.

After her death, Jack had bequeathed the title and estate on Afanen— apparently as a ploy to allow his mistress into Court society. Naturally, Afanen had spent no time here; the estate had been managed for her by the repulsive Duke Blancmilque, who had once been a member of Mirana's White Court until he was caught making inappropriate advances at Mirana's Flower maids.

But now Afanen had been stripped of her rank and imprisoned, accused of poisoning Regina with the Emotion Teas. And her chatelaine Blancmilque hadn't been heard from since Jack and Regina's Blessing. The estate had reverted to the Crown, and Jack didn't seem to be in a rush to mete it back out.

It all seemed very suspicious to Lily. Especially once the Doctor confessed that all the ingredients he had purchased for the Teas had been funneled through Afanen's estate. Was Jack hiding evidence of his crimes against Regina and Underland at Tearnan Beo? Could she find enough proof to ensure a guilty verdict from Alice?

"Who goes there?" the gate warden called, arresting the carriage. "Answer in the name of the King!"  
Lily scoffed quietly at the mention of the King, but answered. "I am Queen Lily of Marmoreal, and this is Queen Regina's Doctor. We've come on a matter of some urgency."  
"Ha!" the warden cackled, spitting at the carriage wheels to Lily's shock and disgust. "This here is the King's private hunting lodge. None of the Queen's people have any business here, now be off with you!"  
"Now see here-!" the Doctor sputtered, but Lily silenced him with a hand on his arm, leveling a glare on the warden.  
"This estate is in the country of Crims, where Regina Praecordia is Queen," she said, her voice steel and ice. "I am Lily Palladia Adamas, Queen of Marmoreal and cousin to both Queen Regina and King Jacoby. This is the Queen's Royal Physician. We were sent here by the King to obtain herbs and potions the Doctor needs to care for the Queen, who is pregnant with your future King. Now, are you going to let us pass, or are we going to have to explain to the King that the lives and heath of his wife and son are at risk because a pompous dunderhead of a warden dared to deny us entry?"

Lily smirked as the warden scuttled to open the gate. There were some perks to being Queen, and intimidating idiots was one of her favorites.

Unfortunately, the rest of the estate seemed as determined to thwart Lily's quest as the warden had been. While the Doctor did find some salves and herbs that would be helpful to Regina's continued recovery, they could find no evidence of the Teas— no ingredients, no equipment, not even any letters mentioning nefarious plans.

"Where did it all go?" Lily grumbled to herself (the Doctor having traipsed out to the gardens to look for some more useful plants). "Rhys found those vials here, according to Mary. This must have been the heart of Jack's operation. Where did it all go?"  
"It was confiscated, milady."

Lily whirled around, reaching for the dagger hidden in her vest, but she eased her instinct to attack when she saw the kitchen maid, her hands full with a heavily laden tea tray.

"Who are you?" Lily asked.  
"Lyrica," the girl replied, bobbing a curtsey. "Of the Carpenter's Toolbox."

Lily raised an eyebrow. She'd heard rumors about the Crimsian outlaw known as the Carpenter— how he was a folk hero among the downtrodden subjects of King Jack, standing up to the tax collectors who seemed determined to bleed the people dry despite the harshest winter in living memory.

Lily was one of the privileged few who knew that the Carpenter was the banished Ace of Hearts, acting to protect Regina's interests when she had been exiled just as effectively as he had. She hadn't heard of an organization called the Carpenter's Toolbox, but after a moment's reflection it made perfect sense. Dafydd had been banished, rendering him unable to enter the country. If he wanted to continue being a thorn in Jack's side, he'd need to employ some non-banished agents to serve as his eyes, ears and hands.

"Why are you revealing yourself to me?" Lily asked suspiciously.  
"One of our standing orders is to aid you in any way we can," Lyrica replied.

Lily blinked; she hadn't been expecting that. She and Dafydd weren't exactly on good terms; Lily tolerated him for Gigi's sake more than anything. But Dafydd had placed the resources of his entire Rebellion at her disposal?

She was going to have to think about deciding to like him. One of these days.

"You said everything had been confiscated?" she prompted.

Lyrica nodded, setting down her tea tray and fixing a cup while Lily checked the hallway and shut the door.

"Jack came here about six weeks ago to remove any evidence of what he'd done," she reported. "Clean up his tracks, I believe the expression is Above. We got our hands on the wagon. Swapped out the cargo, transported it somewhere safe. I can have it sent to Marmoreal, if you like."  
"Yes please," Lily said eagerly, not stopping to consider before she continued, "and if there's anything I can do for the Toolbox, let me know."  
Lyrica bobbed another curtsey and headed for the door. "The packages will be waiting for you when you arrive home," she promised.

Lily couldn't help bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, clasping her hands as she grinned. A whole secret organization, right at her fingertips! And here she'd thought her Championing days were done. But this adventure had fallen right into her lap; how could she refuse?

"My Lady," one of the Pawns said urgently, pausing at the doorway. "We've found him. Lord Blancmilque."  
"Bring him in," Lily commanded.  
"He's dead, my Queen."

Lily blinked, caught off guard. Well… that was an unexpected stumbling block…

* * *

Jack paced through his study, running an agitated hand through his hair as he prowled like a caged animal. He ignored the overturned furniture, the shambles of his books and desk. The mess didn't matter; he could just blame it on Regina having an Episode.

Hell, his agitation was her fault anyways, so in a way this mess really was because of her.

When Jack had left Regina's suite this morning, he had sent for Duff, ordering him to send the Cards out into Crims to search for Dafydd.

"Search homes, burn the fields, I don't care," he had snapped. "Do whatever you need to, but find that bastard and bring him to me alive, so I can cut off his head. And imprison any of his supporters while you're at it."  
Duff had frowned. "My lord, you banished Hightopp-"  
"And Regina must have found a way to circumvent my order," Jack had snarled. "She's been playing me for a fool for months. Now she even dares to flaunt his gifts in my face, like the most baseborn whore. So I will find her lover and kill him. It's long past time I fulfilled that promise."

After Duff bowed and departed, Jack had dressed and gone to his study to get some work done. He'd sat down to finish up some legislation… But when he'd opened his desk drawer, he'd discovered the loss of his signet, the mark of his Royal authority. He'd ripped apart his study, all the while Knowing it was useless; he Knew it was gone.

And he Knew, without even having to ask, that the thief was his damned wife. She was the only other Royal in Crims; with his seal gone, she was the only one who could rule.

Granted, he had destroyed her seal a long time ago. But it wasn't impossible to get a new one. If she had gotten back to the Heart… If the Heart had given her a new seal, and she was trying to exert her Royal influence…

Frowning, Jack swept out of his study, rushing through the palace down to the Foundation Chamber. What sort of mischief was his wife up to now?

He squatted down by his cornerstone, glaring at the smear of blood that wasn't his. Oh for God's sake… Hadn't he made it perfectly clear to his Mad, meddlesome minx of a wife that he would have one master in Crims, and it wouldn't be her? Was she being willfully stupid, or did she seriously believe she was strong enough to oppose him?

He paused, tilting his head in thought. Stealing his signet ring… keying herself back into the foundation of the castle… wearing that damned dress… Christ. She was trying to push him out, wasn't she? Depose him and replace him with her damned Outlandish lover. Regina had sworn that she'd been faithful, but why the hell should Jack believe that? Regina was always leaving Isla Affalin to go to Witzend or Iplam. Who was to say she wasn't meeting Dafydd there?

Christ, how could he even be certain the child she carried was his? Who was to say it wasn't Dafydd's, or Rhys'? Hell, it could be Duff's, or any of the Nobles at Court. He knew she was probably spreading her legs for Dafydd; how many others were there?

And was she truly daft enough to believe that he would suffer her bastard under his roof? That he would give his throne to Dafydd's son?

No. He would kill Regina and the child and raze Crims to the ground before he saw Dafydd Hightopp anywhere near his throne.

To Annwyn, then. Jack would confront his treacherous spouse about her many offenses. And if her answers were even slightly objectionable…

Well. It wasn't as though he needed a queen.

* * *

The study was dark, lit only by a single candle. Enough light to read by, but not enough to attract the attention of her guards (jailers).

She wasn't waiting up for Jack, not really. True, he hadn't gotten to the manor yet, and true, she would prefer to be awake when he got there. She didn't relish the idea of him sneaking up on her when she was vulnerable and asleep. But she wasn't really waiting up for him, so much as she was avoiding sleep.

Regina was curled into an armchair with Scraps on her lap, idly skimming through a medical scroll that had been written by Mirana years ago.

_Factors for Determining How Long a Pregnancy Might Last…_

_Common Symptoms in the Expecting Mother, and Corresponding Sympathetic Symptoms in the Father…_

_Effects of Illness or Death Upon the Unborn Child…_

Regina shuddered, gently rubbing her stomach. What a morbid subject to contemplate. Still, she should be prepared. In the Aboveground, pregnancy was a dangerous time; miscarriage and stillbirth were all too common. She still wasn't certain she wanted to continue this pregnancy, but just in case she did decide to keep her unwanted child, it was best to know what risks he faced if she fell prey to one of her many illnesses.

_We are all Mad here; it is taken as fact. But indeed, the folk of Underland exhibit many different kinds of Madnesses, and each of these different kinds may affect a pregnancy in different ways._

_The most comprehensive compilation of Madnesses and their symptoms was collected by Madigan Hightopp in the time of High Queen Tontina of Crims. He categorized Madness into three classes: Madness of Joy, Madness of Inertia, and Madness of Survival. Studies through the years suggest that Madnesses of Survival— Battlelust, Frenzy, Evasion, and the dreaded Hightopp Clarity of Survival— may actually prove beneficial in ensuring the safety of both mother and child._

Regina quirked an eyebrow, making a mental note to track down this ancestor's compendium. The reference to Clarity of Survival sounded similar to her own Madness; if her Madness could help her come safely through delivery, that'd be the first good thing that ever came of being Mad.

_The effects of death upon an Unborn are complex. Mother and child are Bonded through the birthing-tie, as truly as a pair of spouses. And yet unlike a marriage, which is ended when one spouse's heart stops beating, even if a mother dies a child may yet live on inside her, and so they are Bound still…_

Regina's breath caught in her throat. Her heart stuttered and squeezed, stilling for a long minute. Her ears felt stuffed full of cotton; her sight reduced to tunnel vision, fixating on those words as they rattled loose in her skull, chasing after a memory.

…_unlike a marriage, which is ended when one spouse's heart stops beating…_

_Your breath stopped and your heart stopped and you were dead until your Lionheart came to you!_

Her brain raced and her heart lurched, frantically beating overtime as adrenaline flooded her veins. Her breath exploded in a single gasp that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the silent room.

"I'm not married," she breathed.

The whispered words hung heavily in the air, filling the sitting room. Regina was vaguely surprised that this earth-shattering discovery hadn't drawn the attention of the Albion; had the explosion of her mind been so silent?

She stared down at her aunt's spidery calligraphy, struggling to understand though it was perfectly clear.

She wasn't married.

She wasn't married?

How could this be? Her heart had stopped; her breath had stopped; she had died. She had died? Wasn't one supposed to see a white light or some kind of Heaven when one died? She remembered nothing between collapsing and waking up in Dafydd's arms; had she really died in the blackness between? Was that what Death _was_, that Blackness?

And while the Blackness had relented and released her, it had taken her marriage in exchange.

Well, that was a price she'd happily pay.

Oh, brimini. If she wasn't married, then she didn't have to stay. If Jack wasn't her husband, there was no reason to try to maneuver through their broken marriage. She didn't have to suffer through another night of Jack's attention; she never had to let him touch her again.

Yes, there was still the child to consider, and in fact a son of Jack's became a further complication if they weren't wed…

But she was free.

She stood abruptly, feeling weak as a newborn kitten as all her limbs shook. Her jerky movement shoved the armchair back, and the scroll fell off her lap to the floor with a heavy _fwoomp_. She froze as the noises echoed through the room, hardly daring to breathe as her ears zoomed in on the hallway. When a few minutes later it was clear that none of the Albion were coming, she relaxed in relief.

All of her senses were razor-sharp, but the hyper-clarity of her Madness wasn't present. It was just enough to help her be stealthy as she made her choice.

She made her way down the hallway to Dafydd's room, every sense on the alert for any sign of the guards. She crossed to the armoire, rifling through Dafydd's clothes for a tunic and breeches, a belt, a cloak, and a satchel she could hide beneath it. She couldn't waltz past the Albion with a pack making it obvious what she was doing, but she could probably slip past them on the excuse that she wanted a moonlit stroll in the garden.

She didn't have a plan. She didn't know where Dafydd was, or what any of this meant for Crims. All she cared about was that she had no reason to stay with Jack, and so she was leaving. Right now.

She would make her way back to Isla Affalin, she decided. The Trees in her apple orchard had told her once that they could transport her to safety. She'd get to that safe place, and she'd send for Dafydd, and they'd be together. They could fight their way back to Isla Affalin somehow; the important thing was that they could be together now.

Changing out of her (hateful) clothes (damn Jack) and into Dafydd's, Regina turned to her own possessions. She packed the law folios and her seal, a couple of the more helpful pregnancy scrolls including Mirana's, and Noble's elixir. She cast a wild glance around the room, then bent and picked up Scraps, cradling her Kitten to her chest.

"Come on, Scraps," she murmured, adjusting the satchel beneath the enormous cloak that swallowed her whole. "We're going home."

Drawing a deep, bracing breath, Regina squared her shoulders and walked out of the room, making her way downstairs and outside.

"Where are you going?"

Regina stiffened, turning to face the grim visage of Jack's Ace.

"I'm going for a walk," she announced.  
"I'll have one of the men accompany you," Duff replied.  
"That won't be necessary, Captain," she demurred.  
Duff frowned down at her. "The King said-"  
"I don't care two pins for what the King said," she retorted disdainfully. "Your men are patrolling the perimeter of the estate, are they not? I'm not going far."

She didn't wait for the odious man to reply. She just took off for the vineyard, where hopefully she could hide in the shadows and slip past the patrolling Albion.

"Did you actually have a plan to get past the bad man?"

Regina gasped, whipping around in surprise and then relaxing when she saw Witzend floating in midair, grinning widely at her. Scraps agilely leapt down from her arms, winding around her ankles before sitting down beside her feet.

"You little troublemaker," she said fondly, reaching out to stroke behind the Cat's ears. "Where have you been? I missed you."  
"I was off causing trouble," she purred. "But not as much as you. You've been in double."  
"I do seem to have a talent for that, don't I," Regina said ruefully.  
"And I should have your head for it," Witzend agreed. "Can't leave you alone for even a little bit."

Purring, the Cheshire ducked from beneath Regina's hand to float down toward her stomach. She nudged at the barely discernible swell of Regina's belly, then floated back up to Regina, scowling.

"How could you?" she hissed, ears flattening in anger. "You're endangering your Hightopp son, after everything I've done!"  
Regina blinked, taken aback by the Cat's sudden hostility. "What are you talking about?"  
"You're not taking care of your baby or yourself! I've never seen you in such poor health!" Witzend scowled.  
Regina frowned, stepping back from the Cat. "What's wrong with you? Why on earth should I keep Jack's child?"  
"_Jack's_ son?" Witzend said incredulously. "Use your brain, dumdum! I know the things you've seen, I made the stupid Spirit give you that dream!"  
"Dream?" Regina asked. "Witzend, what are you talking about?"  
"Honestly, how could you be so dumb?" the Cat griped. "When have your dreams Down Here ever been random? And even if you couldn't figure it out, it's not the first time he's been bandied about. The Keeper foretold a son of the Lion. A Prince of the Promise, a new Heart-bound scion."

Regina stared at the ranting Cheshire, her mind reeling. _A Prince of the Promise_…

"But I was supposed to bear that child to a Lionheart," she said faintly.  
Witzend scoffed. "Oh, of course you think you know best. Tell me, Lady, what was the name of the Gryffon of the West?"

Regina stared. That couldn't… Witzend couldn't possibly be telling her…

"Dafydd," she breathed, her throat tight.  
Witzend nodded. "I went Mad to ensure his birth," she said bluntly, nodding down at Regina's stomach. "Now stop being dumb, and bring him to earth."  
"Witzend," Regina choked, her eyes brimming with tears. Raising a trembling hand, she stroked her former Cat behind the ears again. "What have you done for me?"

The Cat sighed heavily, relaxing under Regina's hands. Crying softly, Regina cradled the Cheshire, stroking her gently. She crooned to her former pet, humming snatches of lullabies and whispered endearments as she had done once upon a lifetime ago.

Beneath her humming, another Song resounded very quietly. Regina barely noticed; after all, she was of Hightopp blood, and she always heard the Song. She barely noticed as the Song wound around her own singing, wrapping around Witzend and sinking into the Cat's fractured mind. Nothing could fully heal Witzend's mind; after all, she was a Cheshire, and her mind was as fragmented as the various threads of Time. But the Madness could dance to a different harmony, something less jagged and angry, something more nurturing and gentle. And this, the little Singer did, smoothing over the ragged edges of Witzend's Madness with the healing of the Hightopp Music.

When the Song abated, Witzend sighed, drawing her first sweet breath of quiet in months.

"Come, Regina," she mewed quietly. "Pick up your Kitten. I'll bring you all to safety."

Witzend twined around Regina and Scraps, and a moment later, they had all vanished.

* * *

Jack reined in his Horse sharply, vaulting off his back before the Animal had fully stopped. Baron Vulpez was saying something behind him, but he ignored the man easily, screaming for Regina as he stormed into the house.

"The Queen is missing, Sire."  
Jack whirled around to face Duff. "What?"  
"She went for a walk, half a turn of the clock ago," Duff reported. "We were watching her, but then she just… vanished."  
"Vanished?" Jack repeated. "She can't just vanish. She must be somewhere."  
"I have men out looking," Duff answered.

Jack scoffed in impatience, then stormed upstairs to the bastard's rooms.

The chamber was dark and quiet. But just the silence was a damning clue. Even if Regina had gone for a walk (At this hour of the night? Unlikely), her infernal Kitten should have been underfoot, hissing and spitting and getting in the way. But there was no sign of the little beast.

Regina's trunk was flung open, its contents disturbed. An armoire door hung open— signs of flight? What had she been looking for in the bastard's closet?

Jack's eyes narrowed. All signs pointed to Regina fleeing— to rejoin her exiled lover, tell him about their bastard? Could Regina lead Jack to Dafydd's hideaway?

Calmly, Jack walked downstairs to the kitchen. Calmly, he grabbed a burning twist of wood from the fireplace. And calmly, he walked from room to room, setting the manor alight.

He walked out to the courtyard, smiling in satisfaction as the flames grew and began to engulf the manor. He had never been drawn to pyrotechnics as a child Above, but he had to admit, he could understand the impulse. The flames really were quite beautiful.

A particularly irritating shrill tone resolved into Baron Vulpez shrieking at him, flailing like a demented windmill.

"Have you gone Mad?" he yelled. "What in the name of the Cheshire's teats are you doing? Are you trying to kill us all? What possible purpose could this serve, you foolish boy-!"

There was a certain elegant justice to stabbing Vulpez— who was, after all, a traitor several times over— with his own knife. Grinning at the baron's stunned face, Jack kicked Vulpez backwards, watching in satisfaction as the older man stumbled right into the fire's embrace.

Nodding, Jack walked over to Duff. "I'm going back to the palace," he announced. "Take your men and find the traitorous bitch."

All in all, not a bad night's work.

* * *

The last time Regina had traveled by Cheshire transmogrification, she had been an infant. She had no conscious memory of the sensation, but the knowledge was buried deep in the back corners of her brain; she remembered the feel of the fog, the slide and twist and spinning dizziness.

The trip ended as suddenly as it had begun, and Regina's head reeled with dizziness as her stomach turned queasily. There was no sign of Witzend; she and Scraps were utterly alone.

"Mistress?" Scraps moaned, curling into her stomach. "Let's not _ever_ do that again."  
"I agree," Regina murmured, rubbing her temples as she took in her surroundings.

An impartial eye might have said it wasn't much to look at. Regina sat on a large boulder on a rocky beach. The small cove was protected by sheer cliff faces; she could just make out a narrow, winding stair carved into the rock. It was a lonely, wild, desolate looking place.

But this was Regina's new sanctuary. She thought it was beautiful.

She did wonder why the Cheshire had deposited her here. Were there other people nearby? Was she expected to fend for herself?

Pursing her lips, she peered out over the choppy grey water. It was hard to tell in the flat, grey light of the overcast pre-dawn (good gracious, how long had they been traveling if it was already dawn? It had still been the wee hours of the night when she left), but she thought she saw a head and a pair of arms out there, swimming strongly in the surf. Her breath caught as she watched, hardly daring to wonder… From here that almost looked like… Could she really be here? Was this truly happening? Was she actually safe? And… could that really be…?

She started as she heard someone approaching, tread shifting on the pebbles. But her trepidation turned to joy as she recognized the shaggy coat and gentle eyes of the Dog trotting toward her.

"Mistress! You've come!" Madoc barked, rushing over to her.

Regina couldn't speak. She was overwhelmed by Madoc's presence; if he was here on the beach, then that meant…

A strangled half-sob escaped her throat as she collapsed off the boulder, startling Scraps from her lap and forcing him to leap to the ground. Regina didn't notice; she threw her arms around Madoc and buried her face in his coat as she burst into tears. Madoc snuffled at her neck, panting and wagging his tail. She was so consumed by her profound relief that for a moment she almost forgot about the man swimming in the cove…

Until he whistled, and Madoc barked happily, and she couldn't tell if those were her emotions or his or maybe both.

"Gia?"

Fates, hearing his voice was like a shot of pure Joy Tea pumped directly into her heart. Shaking like a leaf, she slowly looked up from Madoc's fur, immediately getting burned by the sapphire flame of her Beloved's eyes.

She didn't know who moved first. It didn't matter. He had her pinned against the cliff as he devoured her muffled cries, holding her so close and tight that she couldn't breathe. He was dripping wet, the salt water was saturating her borrowed clothes before those magically vanished, and it didn't matter, because his body heat was scorching.

"Gia… How are you here? Wait, no, don't care don't care, alag mog a brimini, cariad…" he muttered into her neck, voice strained as they merged.  
"Dai…" she half-sobbed, clinging to him. "I'm not married."

He stilled, and she thought she would die, thought it was a little better when he tangled one big hand in her hair.

"What?" he asked, dumbfounded.  
"Lily's Queenmaking ball, when I… My heart stopped. My breath. I was dead," she said, not certain she could adequately explain but needing him to understand. "Underlandian marriages last until one spouse's heart stops beating."

He stared, and she knew he understood what she was trying to say.

"You're not married," he breathed.  
"No," she shook her head, smiling as she blinked back tears and stroked his beard-covered jaw.

He stared at her for a moment, chest heaving. Then he was kissing her with renewed fervor, claiming her body and soul as he murmured the Hightopp Joining Vows in her ear.

"Blood of my veins. Air of my lungs. Seed of my body. Fire of my heart. All that I am, I put into your keeping. I bind myself to you, from now until Death parts us."

She thought her heart might burst from her chest as she was finally free to repeat the ancient words back to him.

"Blood of my veins. Air of my lungs. Seed of my body. Fire of my heart. All that I am, I put into your keeping. I bind myself to you, from now until Death parts us."

Had she not been so thoroughly distracted by her (oh thank the Fates, _**finally**_her) husband, Regina might have noticed that emanating from the place where she and Dafydd stood joined, the formerly bare and desolate island was experiencing a transformation. Dead trees sported budding growth, the barren waters were clearing and drawing marine life, and far overhead on top of the cliffs, grasses and trees and flowers were sprouting from the bare dirt.

Hope was finally springing.


	9. Long Live the Queen

**Author's Note**: Not gonna lie, I was really tempted to title this chapter "Finally." I've kind of been simultaneously dreading and anticipating this chapter since somewhere in Book Three, so it's a relief to finally be posting it.

**Warning**: Mentions (once again) of the injuries Regina has sustained from Jack's attack (I am so sorry to have to keep bringing it up, but this is the last time I promise). Non-graphic references to battle, bloodshed, and massacre. Non-graphic incident of character injuries (because battle) and not-very-graphic description of character death (because battle). Basically, it's a PG to PG-13 general warning for battle scenes (but it's more _Avengers_ than _The Two Towers_, if that makes sense?).

**Special Thanks**: I was really worried about the flow of this chapter, because it's a Frankenstein stitched together from multiple drafts. Many grateful thanks to my brilliant beta Ranguvar27 for reassuring me that the flow wasn't nearly as choppy as I feared it was.

* * *

Mary hummed to herself as she reluctantly made her way down to the throne room. Really, wasn't Jack sick of gathering them all into his basket like this? Why was he so insistent on picking all his Flowers and issuing proclamations all the time? It wasn't like he was even saying anything interesting anymore; it was just an ever-increasing list of things they were Not Allowed To Do. No Noble was allowed to visit their own estate; they must remain within palace grounds at all times unless they were issued a special dispensation to go to town; no one could gather in groups larger than three. It was getting quite ridiculous, honestly.

Of course, she understood why Jack was so anxious. She'd be worried too, if her spouse had vanished into thin air and she had no convincing explanation for it.

The rumors were of course flowing fast and furious. That Regina had run away to Witzend, that she had been spirited Aboveground (how unoriginal), that she had been kidnapped. That she had been killed, and was buried at Jack's hunting lodge at Tearnan Beo. That Jack had locked her back into the North Tower until their son was born.

Mary had spent yesterday worried out of her mind for Regina's safety. Thankfully, Rhys had sent word— a sprig of bergamot and a golden flutterby, tied together with gold thread. Mary had breathed a sigh of relief; Regina was safe with Dafydd, and the two idiots had _finally_ married. All would be well, now. There was no question that Regina and Dafydd wouldn't take Crims back from Jack, and their long winter of misery could finally melt away into memory.

As Mary walked into the throne room, she glanced around at her fellow Nobles, gauging the mood of the room. She knew she wasn't the only one unhappy with King Jack's behavior. She saw the signs of the Court's stress in the stiffness of this servant's back, the shrill laughter of that Lady, edged in a desperate attempt to sound jovial. The Nobles were uneasy, shooting covert glances at their King and amending their behavior based on his mood.

And speaking of the King… Mary returned her attention to Jack. The King sat in his throne, his face as stern as ever. The only sign that the King didn't feel as confident as he looked was in his hands. Instead of resting on the armrests, Jack gripped them, so tightly his knuckles were white. The King was certainly on edge, and it made Mary tread warily.

"Thank you for attending to me, my Nobles," Jack spoke in a ringing voice several minutes later, after Mary had found a good place to observe the throne and the room. "I've asked you here on a matter of some urgency."

Mary only just barely avoided rolling her eyes. She very much doubted that whatever Jack had to say was actually of any importance. He may still be the King, sort of (until Dafydd returned, that was), but he wasn't their proper Ruler; why should they give two figs for what he had to say?

"I know you've all been worried for the safety of your Queen," he announced. "Let me assure you, she and the child are both perfectly safe."

The news rippled through the Courtiers, leaving excited chatter in its wake. Everyone knew the King and Queen weren't particularly happy together, but it was good to know that Jack hadn't done away with Regina, and that the child— and thus, the safety and security of the throne and the country— was still safe.

Jack rose, and Mary watched him warily. Oh, something was wrong. The King didn't look at all pleased about the Court's reaction to the news. There was a strange light in his eyes that made the hairs on the back of Mary's neck prickle.

"Why are you fools cheering?"

He wasn't screaming, but Jack's voice was so cold that it silenced everyone in the hall. A chill shot up Mary's spine as the tension in the room thickened. Oh, how she wished she had a knife handy to cut her way through it.

Jack glared at his Court, clenching his fists. "Regina has run away because she is a cuckolding whore who tried to convince me that her bastard was mine."

He seemed oblivious to the shocked murmurs of the Lords and Ladies, folding his arms and pacing across the dais.

"You think I don't know that she's been hopping into Dafydd's bed behind my back?" he snapped. "That some of you would prefer a baseborn Outlander as your King than me, the trueborn son of Iracebeth Praecordia?"  
"B-But my Lord…" one young Lord stammered. "You banished the Du- I-I mean, the Queen's Cha- um… Dafydd, I mean. He's been away from Court for months."  
Jack whirled around, snarling. "You think Regina isn't able to get to him if she wants to? Arrest him!" he snapped.

A ripple of frightened murmurs spread through the Court as Jack's bodyguards grabbed the courtier's arms and dragged him away. Clearly, the unfortunate lad was heading for the dungeons. But would Jack stop there? He couldn't possibly intend… But as he himself said, he was Iracebeth's son, and the former Queen had only had one mode of punishment…

Jack glared at the rest of the Court. "Anyone else?"

The Nobles didn't look at each other as they shuffled uneasily. Jack nodded, satisfied with their response.

"Regina is bearing the bastard of an enemy of this Crown," Jack said, raising his voice so everyone could hear him. "As such, she has also made herself an enemy of Crims, and her crown is forfeit. Let no one refer to her as Queen of Hearts or as my wife. I dissolve our marriage, and her status as Queen. She's nothing but a traitor's slut. Captain!"  
"My Lord," Duff said, saluting smartly.  
"Hunt down the traitors," Jack ordered. "Bring them back to me alive. I want them executed publicly. I'll make an example of them."  
"Yes, my Lord," Duff said, saluting again before marching off to gather his men.

Jack nodded, storming away and leaving the entire Court in a shocked silence. What had just happened? Could Jack truly dissolve Regina's Queenship, just like that, when he hadn't been the one to give it to her in the first place? Could he invalidate their marriage simply by saying so?

Fighting back the rising panic, Mary retreated from the throne room, making her way outside to the gardens. _Don't look suspicious_, she coached herself. _Nothing untoward here, just a Noble going for a walk… _

No one was allowed to breach the perimeter of Regina's apple orchard. The Trees themselves forbade passage within unless Regina expressly permitted it. And since Regina wasn't currently on the premises, there was no hope of getting inside. But Mary laid a hand on the trunk of one of the Trees, peering up at its branches.

"Please, we need your help," she said quietly. "Send a warning to Regina and Dafydd, Jack's ordered their arrest and execution."

She didn't wait for the Trees' response; instead she turned and made ran deeper into the garden. When Jack had taken the crown, the half-wild rambling gardens had changed just like the rest of the palace. They were now regimented within an inch of their lives, and there were no secluded groves or shaded alcoves; nowhere secret in Jack's gardens. But Mary didn't need secrecy; she just needed to get to her Bluebells. She rushed back to the private section of the garden that was reserved for her use (she was, after all, Chief Gardener of Isla Affalin in addition to being Mistress of Regina's Household), falling to her knees beside her trademark flower.

"Send a message to Rhys, quick as you can," she said, the words tripping each other up on her tongue in their haste to get out. "Gather the Fearail, Jack's ordered Regina and Dafydd's execution. He's disowned the child and nullified Gigi's claim as Queen."

She sighed, massaging the stitch in her side as her Flowers began whispering the message to each other, spreading the whispers between each other and far away. Well. Things had come to a head now. One way or another, the game of thrones would be over soon.

* * *

The study was shrouded in shadow and secrecy, illuminated by a single candle and the force of Lily's horror as she sat on the ground, surrounded by the boxes of her evidence.

There were so many horrible things; she didn't know where to begin.

Her parents; start with the murders of her parents. There were recipes, ingredients that matched the poison that had killed Mirana, Kalen and Leferidae. The key to Mirana's storerooms, which only Mirana and Blancmilque had had access to.

More than enough evidence to implicate Afanen, and convict Blancmilque.

Blancmilque, who was under Jack's amnesty.

Blancmilque, who was one of Jack's most trusted advisors.

Blancmilque, who was dead.

He'd been dead for possibly three months, but no one had known. Jack hadn't acknowledged the loss of his advisor and friend. He must have known; he'd taken over Tearnan Beo as his private hunting lodge. But he hadn't said a word about Blancmilque's death. Why would he do that, unless he had something to hide?

It was speculation, Lily freely admitted that. But it might just be enough to convince Alice to issue a guilty verdict.

Because he certainly was guilty, of a great many things.

Lily clapped her hands over her face as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

Usually, her days were too busy to allow her to really _think_ about everything that had happened; her parents' deaths remained an abstract fact in the back of her mind.

If she so happened to keep herself so busy specifically so she _had_ no time to think… Well. No one needed to know that. And if the nightmares drove her to stay constantly occupied in the desperate hope that she'd exhaust herself into dreamless sleep… That was another secret she was more than happy to keep.

But now, after one hundred thirty six days of plotting and scheming and searching… Almost fourteen weeks of sleepless nights and fruitless hints… Now she finally had what she'd been hoping, dreaming, wishing for. She had her evidence; she had a promise of vengeance. Retribution for her parents, safety for her siblings, closure for herself.

Wildly, irrationally, she wished Ioan were here. The relief and the hint of promise were overwhelming, terrifying. Ioan would have kept her grounded, helped her to find her footing on this new, more hopeful path.

But no, Ioan couldn't be here. Ioan needed to stay in Accor, with her siblings. Ioan was— had been— Fearail, and all the Fearail were in danger if they went anywhere near Crims. And Lily knew Ioan; the second he found out what had been going on, he would throw himself right into the thick of it. He loved action just as much as she did; of course he would be right in the middle of the fray. And because of that, perhaps it was only fair that she send for him. Regina was his clan, and Dafydd his family; he deserved a chance to fight for them.

But no. If she sent for him, that would mean either leaving her siblings unprotected and alone in Accor, or bringing them home to Marmoreal. And good Fates, it wasn't safe for them in Marmoreal, and wouldn't be until Jack was dead or imprisoned. So no. Ioan needed to remain Oversea to protect the White Children, and Lily would have to deal with this on her own.

She was the Crown Keeper, after all.

* * *

Sunlight filtering through the tent flap. Unseasonably warm as it crept over the pallet. Warm all over; more body heat than usual. Small, soft something curled into him. Cooler than most humans, but tantalizingly familiar. Slow, deep breath, fighting consciousness. Inhale; honeysuckle and sandalwood. Wait…

Dafydd's eyes snapped open, and a moment's glance at the priceless treasure in his arms brought all of it back. Regina, here; escaped from Jack at last. Truly free of him. Finally, _finally_ his wife. Together until Death parted them, and then beyond, because they were Heart-bound. His wife, his Duchess, his Queen. His Gia.

Overwhelming to know that he didn't have to fear discovery; that they had time, that he (and only he!) had the right to hold her and claim her. Finally, _**finally**_ his, as he was hers.

He stared at her, entranced, half afraid that she was only a delusion, a dream of his half-asleep mind. But no; he wouldn't have dreamed her looking like this. Too pale, too thin; still carrying the scars (bruises) of her first marriage. He would have dreamed her hale and whole; the fact that she wasn't meant this couldn't be a dream. She slept like the dead; she hadn't once moved or talked in her sleep in that unbearably endearing way of hers. Was she dreaming? Was she happy? Did she know he would keep her safe, whatever the cost, that her living nightmare was over? They were together, finally; she was his wife. He would keep her safe. He'd always promised her that, but he hadn't been able to make good on that promise, until now.

He hitched himself up onto one elbow, protectively curling around her supine form as he slowly drew down the blankets.

It was not, unfortunately, the first time he'd seen bruises marring Regina's fair skin. It seemed like she'd born the marks of abuse every time he'd seen her since the night of her Blessing. But he had never seen bruises this bad— marks so dark a purple they were nearly black, blossoming so large they hardly looked like fingerprints at all anymore. And the bite marks; the one on her breast was dark and angry, but the one on her neck had actually drawn blood. It was a miracle the scar on her side hadn't burst open again. She must have been terrified.

He exhaled around the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. This was his fault. He hadn't assaulted Regina, but his refusal to press his suit had directly led to Regina holding the Joust, which brought Jack into their lives. If he'd just told her the truth, none of this would have happened. Brimini, he'd cost them _years_. They could have been Joined when they came home from the Outlands, and by now their son could have had a sibling.

Sweet Fates, their son. How much danger had their bairn been in, because Regina had been trapped with Jack? Had Jack's abuse of Regina affected the baby? How badly had Dafydd failed his child?

Drawing a shaky breath, he slid his hand down, possessively cupping the gentle swell of Regina's belly.

_I'll protect you_, he silently promised his son. _I'll keep you safe. You and your maman._

He started when he felt a tiny flutter beneath his fingers, then stared, smiling in wonder as the sensation repeated. That was their baby, wasn't it? His son, alive and moving beneath his hand. A promise, indeed.

He grinned as Regina stirred, yawning and stretching lazily. She was still pale— an effect of the Chill, he supposed— wan and tired and too skinny, and her beautiful red-gold curls were all white now. But sleep appeared to have done her at least some good; she looked calmer and less afraid.

She opened her eyes, then gasped, blinking in surprise. "Oh," she said softly. "I thought I was dreaming you again."  
He shook his head. "Not ever again," he promised.

Sunrise couldn't compete with her smile as he leaned down to kiss her.

"Good morning, wife," he murmured.  
Regina blinked in confusion. "Morning again? Did I spend a whole day asleep?"  
"Well, you were pretty worn out," he replied with an unrepentant grin, which only grew wider when she blushed and smacked his chest.  
"You're incorrigible," she informed him.  
"It's our Blessing!" he protested. "If I'm not wearing you out, I'm not doing my job."  
"Oh _really_," she hummed, sliding her arms around his shoulders. "And yet here I am, entirely awake. Not worn out at all."

He leered at her, but a thought gave him pause.

"I won't hurt you, will I?" he worried, hands ghosting over her hips, the inside of her thighs.  
Her eyes softened, and she traced along his beard-covered jaw. "You've never hurt me, ma taavi," she assured him.  
"Good," he nodded through a suddenly tight throat. "That's good. I don't ever want to hurt you, Gia."  
"You won't," she replied. "I trust you."

He nodded, leaning down to kiss her again. He couldn't undo the trauma she'd endured, but he could help her make new memories; give her such pleasure that she unlearned associating lovemaking with fear and pain.

* * *

"If we were Above," Regina said later, tucked against his side as he played with her white curls, "we'd be on honeymoon right now."  
"Where did your people find a moon made of honey?" he asked.  
She giggled, shaking her head. "It's a trip," she explained. "Newlyweds will go on holiday together. Somewhere romantic, where they can be alone."  
"I could take you round to the other side of the island," he offered. "We don't use it for anything. I think that's where I'll build your palace. There's a better harbor there, and it'd be easier to defend."  
Regina smiled sadly, laying her head on his shoulder. "Someday, my love. Unfortunately, I don't think we have time to hide away right now."  
"Sure we do," Dafydd objected. "We have all the time in the world. Jack can't find you here-"  
"I'm safe, yes," she cut him off. "But Crims isn't. Jack's still there, and he-" She shuddered, snuggling closer into Dafydd's warmth. "You haven't felt it, Dai," she said, her voice low. "Jack opened a Door to Darkness. Chaos. It _poisoned_ Crims, very nearly killed It. The Dark caused the poor crops, and the fish plague and the terrible winter. And it got into me, too. Made me even more ill and Mad than I already was."

Dafydd stiffened, pulling both of them into a seated position as he worriedly checked her for an injury he'd missed.

"I'm alright," she tried to reassure him. "Dai, really, I'm better now."  
"How can you be sure?" he demanded.

Regina drew a deep breath, knowing that he was going to absolutely hate this part.

"Because I paid It a visit," she admitted.  
"What?!"

There it was.

"I'm fine," she hurriedly reminded him. "I gave It Jack's signet back, and It… removed Itself from me, I suppose is the best way to describe it. I've felt better since, mostly."  
"Mostly?" Dafydd frowned, looking murderous.  
"Well, I am pregnant, darling," she reminded him, smiling as his frown softened and his hand once again reached out to their son. "But also… Crims is still not well. The Darkness is out of me, but It's still poisoning the land. And what ails Crims, ails me."  
"So we need to shut out the Dark," Dafydd summarized.  
"Yes," Regina nodded.

Dafydd nodded, a look of steely determination settling over his handsome face.

"I'll kill Jack," he announced.  
Regina's eyes widened in shock. "What?"  
"I'll kill him," Dafydd repeated firmly. "If he's dead, he can't cause any more trouble."  
"Killing him is a little extreme, don't you think?" she frowned.  
"No, I don't," he said shortly. "He tried to _kill_ you, Gia. He _did_ kill you. Now he's killing your queendom, and who's to say that won't kill you again? He needs to be stopped."  
"There are other ways to stop him," she argued.  
Dafydd scoffed. "No. There aren't. Jack's the type who's never going to stop chasing what he wants. It's not going to stop until he's dead or you are, and I'm not letting you die again."  
"What has come over you?" Regina asked, stunned. "This isn't you."  
"Isn't it?" he challenged her. "It wouldn't be the first time I killed for you."

Regina paled as Niall's name hung heavily in the air between them.

"I'm not a prince from your fairy tales, Regina," Dafydd said darkly as the drums stirred into life in his mind. "I'm a soldier. A killer. You know that. We were mercenaries, in the Outlands. You remember how we met. I was working for the man that wanted to kill your parents and Queen Mirana. We were going to invade your home and make it ours by force. Fates, I tortured your father on Stayne's orders. We were… I would have killed you, when we first met. Made you trust me, tricked you into bringing me to the Heartland, and then killed you. I'm not a good man. In the face of what I've already done?" He shook his head, an ugly smile on his face. "Killing Jack is nothing in the face of all of that."

Regina swallowed hard, holding the sheet around herself in a white-knuckled grip. Part of her wanted to clamber off the bed, put distance between them, run. She knew the truth of Dafydd's words, even if the details were new information; she hadn't forgotten who he'd been.

But she also knew who he was now, and she knew it was far too late to run. She had made her choice years ago.

"I know who you are," she told him. "I know what you've done. And I know why you did it." She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. "You are not a mindless killer, Dafydd Nazar Hightopp."

His eyes snapped to hers in surprise. It was rare that anyone called him by his former surname, but since the Reconciliation Regina had never used it.

"You are a protector," she continued, her voice just as uncompromising as his had been. "Everything you've done, it's always been for the ones you love."

The drums were beating, but Regina's sweet voice was an irresistible siren song, calling him back from vengeance. Despite himself, he leaned in toward her, seeking the balm of her words.

"I'm a White Queen, mo laoch," she told him, resting their foreheads together. "I can't let Jack die, even if he does deserve it."  
"He needs to be punished," Dafydd insisted.  
"I know," Regina agreed. "We'll turn him over to Mama and ask that he be imprisoned."  
"He deserves worse," Dafydd grumbled.  
Regina smiled sweetly. "Forced to live with the knowledge that he's failed, he's lost everything, none of his changes remain? I think for him, that's the worst kind of punishment."

Dafydd grumbled, but he couldn't fault Regina's logic. Nodding in recognition of his capitulation, she leaned in to kiss him. He guided her back down onto the bed, intending to very thoroughly celebrate their good fortune and their enemy's impending demise, when Regina was startled by the meowing of not one, but two cats.

"Please don't squish us!"  
"Oh, you can squish _her_, Mistress-"  
"Shut up!"  
"Make me!"  
"What on earth…?" Regina blinked.

She sat back up, turning in to lean against Dafydd's chest as Scraps leapt into her lap, flattening his ears and hissing at the newcomer. She was a sleek Kitten, just about Scraps' age. But where Scraps' coat couldn't decide what color it wanted to be, this Kitten's fur was decidedly black. The only exceptions were the white rings— three on her side, one around her eye— and one white paw.

"Mistress," Scraps whined, kneading her stomach. "It's not _fair_! _I'm_ your Kitten! But _she_ said _she's_ gonna be your Kitten now! Tell her she's _not_!"  
"I didn't know you'd gotten another Kitten," Dafydd said, reaching down to scratch behind the black Kitten's ears.  
"This is Scraps," Regina replied. "He's a gift from Mama and Da. And who's this?" she asked, picking up the she-Kitten. "Oh, you are a beauty, aren't you?" she cooed.  
"I named her Buttons," Dafydd said sheepishly. "I knew you were lonely without Witzend, so-"

The rest of his explanation was muffled beneath Regina's enthusiastic kisses. Note to self: bring Regina more presents. As many presents as humanly possible. Lots and lots of presents. Presents every day.

"Is he _eating_ her _face_?" Scraps asked, disgusted.

Buttons rolled her eyes, turning tail and bounding into the front room to leave Master and Mistress alone. Scraps followed after her, tripping over his own paws a time or two like a clumsy puppy. Heaving a sigh to himself, Madoc lazily padded out after them; someone had to keep an eye on the troublemakers so Master and Mistress could have some time to themselves.

"No, you moron," Buttons mewed, sitting and beginning to clean herself. "They're kissing. Humans do that when they're happy."  
"Why don't they just rub noses like normal Cats?" Scraps frowned.  
"Because they aren't Cats, dumdum," Buttons retorted. "Master and Mistress are humans."  
Scraps scoffed, making a face. "He's not my Master, and she's not your Mistress."  
"He's our Mistress' mate, so yes he is Master," Buttons scowled. "And Master picked me for Mistress, so yes she is my Mistress."  
"No!" Scraps yowled, hissing. "She's _my_ human! Get your own!"  
"Enough fighting," Madoc interrupted, gently picking Scraps up by his scruff and giving him a shake before setting him down away from Buttons. "Either behave, or go to somebody else's tent. Mistress and the Little Master will need you both, as time goes on."

Scraps and Buttons made faces at each other, but didn't start fighting again. Buttons sat down to give herself a cleaning, while Scraps went off to hunt thimbles. Madoc rolled his eyes before stretching and laying down; goodbye to the days of peace.

* * *

They eventually, over the course of a few rounds of… _creative _and_ enthusiastic_ argument… decided upon a compromise. Dafydd would take Regina to the far side of the island for a three-day honeymoon. When they returned to the Fearail's base camp, it would be time to plan their reclamation of Crims.

After spending the afternoon reassigning Dafydd's duties to his captains, traveling to the other side of the island, and repitching Dafydd's tent, the newlyweds settled down to a supper of grilled fish, wild greens, and a bottle of Dafydd's favorite dandelion wine.

"I should probably contact Mama and Da," Regina commented thoughtfully. "Let them know I can't make it to the Tea Party this week."  
"Probably a good idea," Dafydd admitted begrudgingly.

Regina smiled at his disgruntled face; she understood all too well.

"Five minutes," she promised, pulling him in for a kiss. "Then no more distractions."  
"I'm holding you to that," he informed her.

But he did release her to pull on a tunic so she'd look at least somewhat decent in front of her parents, pouring them both another glass of wine. Regina paused on her way to his looking glass, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you trying to take advantage of me, my lord king?" she asked.  
He smirked, leaning back on his elbows (and what that did to his muscles was just… not fair). "Incentive to come back quickly, my lady duchess," he corrected her.

Incorrigible man.

Still, she couldn't deny he raised an excellent point.

Shaking her head clear of distracting thoughts, Regina settled in front of the looking glass and called to her parents.

"Regina!"

She blinked, taken aback by the frantic urgency in Alice's voice as her mathair raced across the room to her looking glass.

"Tarrant!" Alice screamed over her shoulder. "Hatter, come quickly, it's Regina!"  
"Mama, are you alright?" Regina frowned.  
"What? Yes, of course, darling," Alice replied distractedly. "Are _you_ alright? We've been so worried-"  
"Regina!" Tarrant interrupted, scrambling into view. "Oh Sugar Cube, thank the Fates, I- Were you _bitten_?!"

Regina winced, raising a hand to cover the mark on her neck— which only exposed the terrible bruising on her wrist.

"Regina," Alice breathed, eyes wide. "What on earth-"  
"It's fine, Mama," she shook her head. "I'm alright."  
"You bloody well are not alright, Regina Miraget Clava Hightopp," Alice said heatedly. "Did Jack do this to you?"  
Regina sighed; no denying it now. "Yes, he did. But-"  
"Where did he take you, darling?" Alice interrupted. "We'll come get you-"  
"Mama, slow down!" Regina exclaimed, throwing an exasperated look over her shoulder as Dafydd snickered.  
"Is that Dafydd?" Tarrant chimed in, nudging Alice out of the way.  
"That's what I was trying to tell you, if Mama would let me get a word in edgewise," Regina said, hoping to high heaven that she wasn't blushing too terribly. "Jack had told Noble— and me— that he was sending me to Tearmunn for my pregnancy. Instead, he sent me to Annwyn."  
"What?" Dafydd interrupted, looking up from his wine and now sounding truly irritated. "That bastard got you to Annwyn?"

_When I couldn't_ was clearly the unspoken caveat to that question, and Regina rolled her eyes as she turned to face him.

"Don't be jealous," she chided him. "I didn't want to be there. Especially not since Jack gave the place to Duff. He's let it fall to pieces."

Dafydd scowled at the fate of his estate, muttering to himself as he drank his wine.

"So you're with Dafydd?" Tarrant repeated.  
Regina turned back to her parents and nodded. "Witzend brought me to safety."  
Tarrant's bushy eyebrows rose. "Witzend? Surprising. Thought she'd gone Mad as a box of frogs."

Dafydd snorted in agreement, ducking and laughing as Regina threw a slipper at his head.

"She… It was my fault," Regina said guiltily. "She went Mad trying to ensure the baby's birth."

Everyone quieted, the humor in Witzend's condition suddenly much less funny.

"Is… Is the baby alright?" Alice asked hesitantly. "After what Jack did, I mean."  
"Noble says so," Regina said, biting her lip as she laid a hand on her stomach. "Which is a bit of a miracle."

Alice nodded, mirroring her daughter by biting her lip as her eyes unfocused in thought. Regina too began to drift in her thoughts, her mind on the child beneath her hand. She wasn't sure it had fully sunk in yet, that the baby wasn't Jack's. And worse, that she'd been considering getting rid of him; ridding herself of Dafydd's child. If Witzend hadn't told her, would she have gone through with drinking the fatal potion? Would she ever have known that she had done away with her and Dafydd's firstborn? Regina shuddered; it hardly bore thinking about. And yet, how could she hide from that truth, from what she had nearly done?

_I'll make it up to you_, she silently promised her son. _I swear I will. You will never know anything but my love for you, little one._

"Regina…" Alice said, drawing her out of her reverie. "Sweetheart, I'm going to declare war on Jack."  
Regina raised her eyebrows. "What?"  
"You're my daughter, Regina. Our daughter," she amended, taking Tarrant's hand. "Your marriage united Crims, Witzend, and Tearmunn. And when he attacked you, he attacked that alliance. He's exiled your sworn Champion, driven you from your throne, and threatened your very life. So yes, I am going to war. I fought a war to put Mirana on her throne; I'm certainly not going to do less for my own daughter."

Regina smiled tremulously, her eyes filling up with tears. They'd had a rocky relationship, in the beginning. But it was good to know that Alice was so firmly in her corner now.

"Well, I'll let you discuss the details with Dafydd. He's the one in charge," Regina said. "But I would certainly feel better having Alice the Champion on our side."  
Alice smiled faintly. "Chin up, sweet girl. We'll sort it all out."

Regina smiled, stepping back from the mirror as Dafydd moved forward, and gave him a sweet smile as he gave her a Look. It wasn't her fault if Alice wanted to hold a war council, and after all, he was the Ace of Hearts; this was his business, not hers.

Oh, he'd put a shirt on. How disappointing. Still, it was alright; she could be patient. Or if she couldn't be patient, she could at least keep herself entertained. Madoc was in need of a good petting, and she had a ribbon for Scraps and Buttons to chase. She could behave long enough to let Dafydd plan their war.

Dafydd held himself still under Alice's suspicious gaze and Tarrant's poorly concealed glee. Calm, stay calm… Don't blush… There had been a time when he and Regina were always together, and no one had batted an eye. Od's Breech, they'd spent weeks under the same roof and they hadn't hidden the fact that they'd been sleeping together. Why should it be any different now that they were properly Joined?

Sweet Fates, this was his _mother and father in law_. This was his family, now.

"Are you still on Prydein?" Tarrant asked.  
Dafydd cleared his throat and nodded, refocusing. "It's the only place I can be sure Jack can't get to us."  
"It's smart," Alice nodded. "Don't give him a chance to attack you before you're ready. You aren't worried about a siege?"  
"Far as I know, Jack hasn't built up any sort of Navy," Dafydd shrugged. "But even if he did get us under siege, there are Rabbit Holes on the island, so we could get out without a problem."  
"That's good," Alice said in relief. "So what is your plan?"  
"Well, if your armada picks us up, brings us to Witzend," Dafydd said thoughtfully. "Regina will lift the Fearail's banishment. Jack has the Cards spread through Crims, but what we really need is to retake Isla Affalin. Secure the throne, and Gia can call off the army."  
"He'll see us coming," Alice frowned. "We'll have to fight our way in."  
"If we move fast enough, he won't have time to call the Cards in from the country," Dafydd pointed out. "At the most there'd be a couple of skirmishes on the way. That just leaves whoever Jack has in the palace."  
"Do you have a guess at how many that is?" Alice asked.  
"Captain Duff has three hundred Albion," Regina chimed in from the corner. "And he usually keeps at least two Decks of Cards on patrol around the grounds."  
"That's not so bad," Alice said, sounding almost cheerful.  
"If we take off at breakfast, we can have the city by Brillig," Dafydd nodded in agreement.

As they shared a conspiratorial grin, Dafydd realized that this was probably the first time that Alice had ever looked on him with approval, let alone fondness. And of course it had come while they planned the violent overthrow of a common enemy.

Well. Of course. They weren't gentle people, he and Alice, were they?

* * *

Regina had been behaving herself, honest.

Alice and Dafydd had become engrossed in planning a war against Jack, utterly lost to the world. Even Tarrant, by far the most mild-mannered of the three Champions, had gotten in on the discussion. So Regina had left them to it, more than content to curl up in the corner with her and Dafydd's pets.

It wasn't her fault that she soon got sleepy. She was pregnant, and she hadn't gotten very much sleep last night. And Dafydd had been constantly on her case to take care of herself, so he could hardly blame her for doing as he asked.

It also wasn't her fault if Dafydd was sitting on the bed. He was the one impeding her ability to take care of herself, so it was his fault if she decided to use his leg as her pillow. Not her fault if the sensation of his hand in her hair was… _stimulating_, rather than relaxing. Very much not her fault if he reacted to her pleasured sigh.

Anything else that might have distracted him from his discussion with her parents also would not have been her fault. But it was probably for the best all around that Regina's hand mirror began to vibrate.

She groaned in frustration, making grabby hands at the mirror, which lay on Dafydd's other side.

"Really?" Dafydd asked, watching her antics with eyebrow firmly cocked.

She pouted at him, whimpering as she wiggled her fingers in the mirror's general direction. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the mirror, leaning down to kiss her as he placed it in her hand.

And to think, she got to kiss this man for the rest of her life…

"Gigi?" she asked. "Gigi, you there?"  
"Lily?" Regina raised the mirror to eye level, focusing on her cousin.  
"Of course it's me, who else has these hand mirrors… Oh. _Oh_," Lily said, her voice suddenly full of innuendo.  
"What?" Regina asked.

She glanced down at herself, taking in what Lily saw. Her hair was most likely a disaster, falling around her shoulders in complete disarray. She was only dressed in Dafydd's tunic, her Heart-Rock, and her Queenmaking ring, as well as the bites and bruises she didn't want to think about.

Well, alright then, she did look a little scandalous. But Lily didn't have to…

"Well, good morning," Lily smirked.  
Regina blushed deeply, but didn't rise to the bait. "How are you, Lily?"  
"Not as good as you, clearly," Lily replied.  
Regina rolled her eyes. "Don't start."  
"Too late," Lily said gleefully. "Now, I know you're not in Isla Affalin anymore, so my guess is you went to your idiot Champion. Yeah?"  
"He's not an idiot!" Regina protested loyally.  
"He is very much an idiot," Lily said dismissively. "But that's not the point right now."  
"Did you call for any reason in particular?" Regina asked, trying to change the subject.  
Lily smirked. "Why? Are you busy?"

Regina rolled her eyes, sighing heavily. Lily snickered before returning to the point at hand.

"As it so happens, yes I did have a reason to call. Two reasons, actually. I had to make sure you were safe, for starters. Jack's been telling everyone who asks and most that don't that you're at Annwyn, but I knew that had to be a lie. You'd never go there willingly."

Regina bit her lip, reaching back to lace Dafydd's fingers with hers when she felt him tense beneath her head.

"I'm safe," she promised Lily.  
"Good," Lily nodded. "And then… I wanted to let you know first. I'm… I'm so sorry, Gigi."  
"Sorry?" Regina frowned.  
Lily nodded, swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat. "I should have called you before, but I could hardly believe it myself and I'm the one who's been looking for it. Duke Blancmilque is dead. And I got my proof. My parents were murdered. Leferidae too. With a poison made of unicorn tears." She drew a breath before dropping the other shoe. "Jack orchestrated the whole thing."  
Regina stared, stilling in shock. Her eyes filled with tears as her eyes filled with horror. "Oh, Lily," she whispered. "Stars, I'm so sorry."  
"It wasn't your fault," Lily said, her voice thick. "I'm going to go in front of Alice, ask her to pass judgment. I just… thought you should know. Since he's your husband."  
"He's not," Regina shook her head.  
"What?" Lily frowned.  
"Never mind, it's not important right now," Regina changed her mind. "Lil… Dafydd and I are going to wage war on Jack. Mama's going to help."  
"I'll join you," Lily said immediately. "Whatever you need."  
Regina nodded her thanks. "It'll be about a week."  
"A week? Why?" Lily asked, confused. "Why not strike right now?"  
"We haven't finished making plans yet," Regina replied. "I won't issue the Challenge until we have everything accounted for. This'll turn Crims topsy-turvy enough, without being fully prepared."

Lily bit her lip against a burst of impatience. She had to admit that Regina had a point; war _would_ cause quite a stir-up in Crims, no matter how well planned. She couldn't begrudge Gigi wanting some time to prepare for that.

"A week," Lily nodded slowly. "That'll give me time to wrap things up here."  
Regina nodded, and her face was sterner than Lily had ever seen it. "One week, and then war," she said grimly.

* * *

The warmth of the sunlight on her face eased Mary out of sleep. She rubbed her eyes, making a face at the golden morning. How wonderful to wake up to another morning of captivity in the palace. What fun.

Ever since Regina had disappeared a week ago, Jack had kept the Court shut away in the castle. He never said they were prisoners (perhaps "hostages" was more accurate), not in so many words. He didn't have to. He was keeping them locked up tight, where he could keep an eye on them. After all, he couldn't risk losing any more of the Cards in his hand, not when he'd let Regina slip through his fingers.

Yawning, Mary sat up, then bounded out of bed when she saw the starling sitting on her balcony railing, its wings glittering with starlight as it held a small bouquet in its silver beak.

Rhys hadn't sent her messages every day since his exile. That would have been stupid and suicidal; far too easy to track the birds and learn where the outlaw band was hiding. If Dafydd hadn't killed Rhys for endangering the rebellion in that way, Mary would have strangled her sentimental fool herself. So no, not every day. But often enough. Enough messages to give Mary news, so that she knew what their Queen was up to and what Regina needed Mary to do back home.

Since Regina's disappearance, Rhys' messages had been similar. Gold-crowned flutterby, one full bloom and a bud, around which was tied a sprig of bergamot. _Regina and the baby are safe; Dafydd is protecting them_. Heartease, heliotrope, and apple blossom. _Regina's getting healthy; Crims will heal soon, too_. Thistle, ivy and blackthorn. _The Tools are working_. Infinite variations on the same themes— Regina was safe, Regina was healing, the Toolbox was enacting plans but Mary herself had to wait, and wait, and wait.

Today though… Today the message was different. An apple blossom— Crims. Cockleshell— Mary. And inside the cockleshell, the petals of a gold-crowned flutterby. Finally, a red herrin— danger, need to be careful.

Mary stared at the message, brow and lips puckered in a perplexed frown. Clearly something was about to happen, something that would require Mary's help, but what? She twisted the flowers in her hand, wondering if she was looking from the wrong angle. She twisted, she tilted… and then she saw.

A tiny flutterby drifted from the cockleshell into the apple blossom.

From the depths of the cockleshell came a burst of petals, cut into tiny hearts.

"Oh," Mary breathed, understanding.

It was time for rebellion.

This would require a very special dress, Mary decided. Something voluminous enough to hide a Queen and a pack of Card Nobles, and an entire Toolbox, if needed. She'd have to cover herself in silver bells to hide the noise of so many feet, she thought, giggling.

It just so happened that she had such a dress. She'd had it made for Lily's Queenmaking ball, but when Regina had collapsed that had put an end to any plans Mary'd had to dance. Instead she'd rushed to Crims to fetch herbs and potions, and the dress had been relegated to the depths of her wardrobe. She supposed it was fitting to wear it now, in celebration of another Queen.

Rhys wanted her to start the rebellion? She knew just what to do.

Once she was clad in her battle armor (it took quite a long time to settle all the ruffles in the skirt, but the effect of looking like she was clothed in a garden was well worth it), Mary left her chambers and walked downstairs. At this time of the morning, most of the Nobles would be promenading through the gardens; it was prime time to see and be seen.

Holding her head high, Mary strode purposely along the paths until she happened upon a small group of three she knew she could trust. Countess Longbourne had despised the Elder Branch of the Praecordia ever since Iracebeth poisoned the child the Countess had been carrying at the time. Dame Imelda's three sons had all been banished from Isla Affalin, because Jack suspected them of plotting against him. And Baron Masquefield had been old friends with Mary's father, before Count Jackjill Contrary had lost his head on the Bloody Red Queen's chopping block.

"My ladies, my lord," Mary nodded her greetings.  
"Fetching ensemble, Duchess," the Baron complimented her. "Wanted to garner attention, did you? Well, you have it now. What'll you do with it?"

Mary snapped her fan open, taking care to look as though they were merely discussing the state of the garden, and not treason and revolution.

"Once before in a game of cards, we were held in the hand of a cruel and unjust Queen. It was a good time," she said, smiling whimsically. "We had parties every night, and her squimberry tarts were divine. Really, the tarts were almost worth our constantly fearing for our heads. Jack's tarts aren't nearly so good. And while I agree that Regina's preference for sponge cake over bread and butter is baffling, I'd rather eat the whole sponge than risk being parted from my head. It's quite a nice head, you know."  
"That's all well and good, my dear Duchess," Dame Imelda replied suspiciously. "But what can be done? We're none of us Chess pieces. We're Cards. The King is the highest-ranking Card; none can best him."  
Mary tilted her head, glancing at her allies slyly. "I think we're playing a game where the Ace is the high card."

She grinned to herself as the Dame, Countess and Baron exchanged thoughtful glances. Could they make that happen? Could they willfully change the order of the Cards, change the rules mid-game and place the Ace above the King?

"When Regina was our ruling Queen, we were becoming wealthy again," Mary reminded them. "Crims was green and fertile, and we all ate well. But look at us now, after just one winter with Jack as King. The Treacle River is just a Trickle. Most of the country has withered; we're suffering a famine and a food shortage. If Crims doesn't accept Jack as King, why should we?"  
"That's all well and good," the Countess replied. "But what can we _do_? The King's dethroned the Queen, and he holds the standing army."  
"Fat load of good an army is, without access to their supplies," Mary pointed out. "And a King is nothing without his crown."  
"You speak of an earthquake, Duchess Contrary," the Baron asked in confirmation. "That the Cards should shuffle and buck out our jump card."  
"We need to form a bridge shuffle," Mary confirmed. "A new hand is being dealt, even now. We need only last until the next round."  
"I'll spread the word around," Dame Imelda promised.  
"And I," Baron Masquefield nodded.  
"Myself as well," Countess Longbourne said with a grim smile. "There may not be as many Cards in your hand as you think, Duchess," she warned.  
"I think we have enough for a royal flush," Mary countered.

Mary smiled to herself as the group went their separate ways. It was going to be an interesting day, no doubt about it.

* * *

"I don't like this."

Regina was intensely gratified that she wasn't the only one who responded to Dafydd's declaration with a hearty groan and eye roll. Every last one of the half-dozen Fearail who'd been in the sitting room of the High House for the meeting joined her in her exasperated reaction.

"I know you don't like it," Regina said in a long-suffering voice. "You've spent the last three days telling me how much you don't like it."  
"One would think you'd listen to your husband," he grumbled.  
"One would think you'd trust your wife," she shot back.  
"That's not fair," Dafydd frowned.  
"Alright, brothers, let's let Maman and Da argue this one out in peace," Rhys decided, shooing the lingering Fearail captains out of the room. "Don't take too long. Alice and Tarrant are waiting," he admonished Regina and Dafydd before withdrawing.

Regina sighed impatiently, throwing Dafydd an annoyed look before crossing the room for the jug of squimberry juice Tarrant had left her an hour ago.

"You're an infuriating man, do you know that?" she asked, raising her goblet in a sarcastic toast.  
"It's why you married me," he replied, folding his arms.

Blast him, she couldn't keep from smiling at that. Never mind that it had been a whole week; she still woke up every morning marveling that they were actually, finally married, that they no longer had to hide. And Dafydd knew of that wonder, and it was unspeakably unfair of him to try and use it as a tool against her. Huffing, Regina took a long drink from her goblet, battling the irritation before it drove her to an episode of Madness.

"I know you're worried," she said a moment later. "But literally our entire strategy hinges on me doing this."  
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he retorted. "Why can't you do it here?"  
"Because I have to be in the Heart's presence to do it," she said for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Maybe it could work if I knew how to tap into the Heart from long distance, but I don't. So I have to be with the Heart. Which means I have to go back."  
Dafydd scowled. "What happens if he catches you?"  
"You'll rescue me," she returned promptly.  
"And if he captures you before you lift the banishment?" Dafydd argued.  
"Then you'll send Da," Regina parried, unconcerned. "You just don't like it because you know it has to happen like this."  
"I'm not losing you, Gia," Dafydd declared on a sudden wave of passion, crossing the room to cup her face in his hands. "I'm your Champion, I swore to protect you, and I _lost_ you. I've lost you to my clan, to Jack, to Madness, and to Death. I'm _not_ losing you again. I _can't_. Neither of you," he amended, laying a hand over their growing son. "Not ever again."  
"You're not going to lose us, Dai," she replied, losing some of her anger when she recognized the fear behind his stubbornness. "Either of us, ever again," she echoed his words, leaning into his touch and lacing her fingers with his over her swelling belly. "I'm only doing this one little thing, and then I promise I'll stay safe and hidden until you come for me."  
"Do you think I can trust that?" Dafydd asked dryly. "You're Alice's daughter. The pair of you attract trouble like oysters to a walrus."  
"That's hardly my fault," Regina said primly. "It's Wonderland's fault for being so interested in me."  
"Right," he scoffed.  
"A few hours, Dafydd," Regina stated. "I only need a little bit of time, and even that while you, Mama and Da are marching the army to Isla Affalin. Then you'll come, and everything will be put to rights. We could be eating supper in my garden tonight."  
Dafydd sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I'm not going to talk you out of this, am I?"  
"Not a chance," Regina cheerfully agreed.

Dafydd sighed heavily, and Regina knew she'd won. Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his waist, nuzzling his chest.

"We'll be done with this nonsense in no time," she promised.  
"Be careful," he commanded her, his arms tightening around her.  
Regina scoffed. "Aren't I always?"

Dafydd's sardonic, raised eyebrow made his opinion of her claim perfectly clear. But she spared no more time to argue the point; it was wiser to leave before he changed his mind.

This she did, pausing only to wrap her cape around herself. Patting her gently rounded stomach, she headed outside to meet the March Hare, who would open the rabbit hole that would return her to Crims.

One day, she silently promised herself. One more day, and this would all be over.

"Lookit the wee besom," Thackery greeted her as she walked out of the High House. "Off ta hunt th' fox who's been huntin' our warrens an' poachin' uir food."  
"Oh, I have every intention of locking him into a cage," Regina said darkly. "The White Vow just means I have to get creative."

Twitching his nose in approval, Thackery tapped at the ground, which opened to reveal a shining Rabbit Hole.

"After ye," the Hare said.

Regina sent one last glance over her shoulder, looking at her farewell committee. Alice and Tarrant were both dressed for battle; Alice in her shining armor and wielding the Aliblay, Tarrant in his battle kilt and holding his claymore. Dafydd, like her faithful Deuces, wore his leather armor, leftover from their days as Hassasseen in the Outlands. She smiled at them tremulously; if all went well, she would be seeing them again in just a few hours.

"Fairfarren, all," she told them before jumping down the Rabbit Hole.

* * *

Dafydd hadn't realized how much he'd missed combat.

In the Outlands, battle had been a regular part of his life. Hardly a month had passed without some kind of scuffle over territory or resources. When they'd come to Underland, Dafydd had been more than happy to (figuratively, of course) hang up his sword and embark on a more or less peaceful life.

But this? The adrenaline, the fear, the pack mentality? He'd _missed_ this. This was what he'd been trained for; this was what had dominated his thoughts and waking hours for most of his life. He'd thought he'd put this soldier mentality largely behind him, but it had merely lain dormant. It was waking up with a vengeance now, pins and needles through his entire body that was building into a crescendo. This rising wave was sweeping all else away; his worries, his hopes, his thoughts. Everything that made him _him _was being stripped away, leaving behind only lightning reflexes, razor instincts, and deadly focus.

He heard the drums in the back of his mind and steadily moving forward, could feel the Battlelust stirring in his veins as he danced on the edge of Madness. Regina, he thought desperately; focus on Regina. He couldn't lose himself to the drums, not now! What was it Tarrant had said— one must make friends with one's Madness? He could use the gifts his Madness gave him, without being mastered by it.

He hadn't expected to encounter much resistance on their way to the palace. Jack wouldn't know the Fearail were coming unless he'd managed to capture Regina; this wasn't supposed to be a siege, but rather a skirmish. So Dafydd had told his men to disarm, rather than eliminate, any opposing forces they ran into.

It was a strategy that had served the combined forces of Fearail and Clubs when they were in the country. But when they approached the city, they had discovered that Jack had apparently had enough warning to pull all of his armed forces to the palace. Instead of a handful of Albion and a Deck or two, they faced the entire might of the Red Army. It was a good thing that Dafydd had the support of Alice and her Clubs, and Lily's Diamonds pressing in from the other side, because if it had just been him and the Fearail he probably wouldn't have made it even halfway to the palace. But even with the support of the Blues and the Whites, there had been a desperate and pitched battle through the streets of Isla Affalin to get to the palace.

And when they got inside the gates, they found the palace a bloodbath. From what signs Dafydd could read, a faction of Nobles had attacked Jack's Albion. They were courageous fools, but fools nonetheless; family heirlooms and polite dueling weapons couldn't stand against the Albion's armor and training. The castle was littered with dead— Nobles, Cards, and Albion.

Dafydd counted himself as thrice-blessed that he and his Fearail had grown up training together as a unit. He hadn't even needed to verbally change his standing orders; in an instant, he'd felt the air around him shift as all of his men entered battle mode. The objective was simple: stop the bloodbath, contain the violence, and regain control of the palace.

And as Dafydd led the assault, he couldn't stop his mind from racing, fearing what might have happened to Regina. Was she still safe, as she'd promised? Or would he find her a captive of Jack, or worse?

Tightening his grip on the hilt of his claymore, Dafydd looked up as his four captains, Alice and Tarrant, and Lily gathered around him. They had successfully breached the gates, but the palace and grounds were still held by Jack's forces. And this would be the tricky part; Dafydd had never fought a battle indoors like this. He had no idea how they were going to secure the castle without wide scale destruction of the building.

A hand on his shoulder steadied him against the pounding of the battle drums, and he gave Tarrant a small nod before focusing. Silently cursing Ioan for not being at his side, Dafydd struggled to focus, to plan, to think. Regina needed him sane; he was no good to her if he couldn't lead his men to her rescue.

"Alright," he said, looking at his captains and compatriots. "We need a plan, and quickly."  
"I still have three-fourths of my Clubs," Alice reported. "Most of the casualties are injuries, not fatalities."  
"I lost a good third of my Diamonds, and those were fatalities," Lily said grimly, wiping blood from a gash on her cheekbone. "The Albion had better tactical ground on the far side of the Treacle."  
Dafydd nodded. "And I'm down to about a hundred twenty Fearail, divided into five companies. How many men did Jack have, at last count?"  
"There were three hundred Albion, originally, and a little over six decks' worth of Cards fit for active service," Rhys reported. "Guessing from the numbers we've secured or killed out here?" He scrunched up his nose, doing some quick mental calculations. "There are almost two hundred of the Albion still unaccounted for, maybe a deck or so of Cards."  
"They're probably all inside," Dafydd said, rubbing his face. "Ffwcio yr holl ieir," he cursed as the drums pounded behind his eyes.  
Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Someday, you really have to tell me what you have against chickens," he commented mildly.

Dafydd glared at Rhys, but the humor did at least keep the Battlelust back, so that was a good thing. HHemming to himself in concentration, Dafydd knelt, drawing plans of the palace from memory while he thought. Finally, he nodded.

"Alright. Here's what we're going to do," he said. "Lily, take your Diamonds and Cefin's division. Go 'round back to the armory. Secure it and make sure anyone who tries to get arms, gets legs instead. And anything they've managed to secure, get it back."

Lily nodded, snapping the visor of her helm back down as she and Cefin withdrew to round up their men and come up with some semblance of a plan.

"Tarrant, take half of the Clubs and Marc's division," Dafydd continued. "Clean off the ramparts. And for the love of the Queen, get that wonder-curse's standard off our flagpole."  
"With pleasure," Tarrant smiled darkly.  
"Rhys, your company goes to the dungeons," Dafydd ordered. "If there are still Nobles down there, free 'em. Trev, take your men through each floor. Disarm any Albion you find, and bring any wounded Nobles or servants to the second floor. Rhys, when your men are done with the dungeons, join up with Trev."

After they'd left, Dafydd turned to Alice.

"Care to come through the front door with me?" he asked his mother-in-law politely.  
"It would be my genuine pleasure," Alice smiled. "And what about Regina?"  
Dafydd clenched his jaw. "If she's not safe, I kill Jack and you tan her hide."

Alice smiled her approval, and both of them very visibly stopped the thought train of worry that Regina might already be at Jack's mercy.

Drawing a deep breath, Dafydd locked all of his thoughts and emotions away, reaching out to his Battlelust. He would not stop until Jack was subdued, and Regina was safe. He had promised to keep her safe. He had broken too many of his promises to her; not this one. He couldn't hold back a grim smile as the drums pounded and the crystal clarity of the Battlelust overtook him. Keep Gia safe; nothing else mattered.

The halls were suspiciously quiet as Alice and her Clubs, and Dafydd and his thirty-seven men made their way towards the throne room. If Dafydd knew Jack— and at this point, he liked to think that he had the bastard's number— the standoff would probably happen here. Jack enjoyed his pageantry (in that, at least, he and Regina were well matched); he would stay close to the throne, the source of his power.

Or, supposed power, Dafydd thought to himself with a dark smile. The fact that the Fearail were even able to set foot in Crims proved that no matter what else might have happened since this morning, Regina had at least managed to rescind their banishment. So yes, she'd been right, and he'd have to tell her so when they reunited.

He would happily serve whatever punishment she saw fit to issue, just please Underland, let her be safe…

When they approached the double doors of the throne hall— which, predictably, were shut— Dafydd frowned. How many Albion were behind those doors? Were they peeking through the keyhole, meaning to attack as soon as they saw the Fearail? Or would they let the Fearail burst in, and bottleneck them at the door? Was Jack in his throne, or was he roaming through the palace?

_Don't let him be anywhere near Regina_, he sent a silent, desperate plea to Whomever or Whatever in Underland might be listening and had the power to aid him. _Keep her safe for once_.

Steeling himself for the battle, Dafydd strode forward, laying a hand on the door handle.

"Don't bother, Lionheart," Handel informed him. "We've been barricaded from the other side."  
"Really?" Dafydd asked, frustrated but resigned.  
"The False King's orders. He locked himself in there with one hundred of his best men and his Champion, and set the rest of the Albion loose on the castle to subdue any rebelling Nobles," Handel reported.  
"One hundred of them against near forty of us, and Queen Alice's Clubs besides?" Wynn said. "Hardly a fair fight for them."

His company laughed among themselves, but Dafydd didn't join the merriment. However good the Fearail were, they were still outnumbered more than two to one. And the throne hall wasn't big enough to fit one hundred Albion, thirty eight Fearail, and fifty Clubs. Not his favorite odds, even if they'd had worse in the past. There had already been too much blood shed today; he didn't want to add to it. Dafydd pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes, rapidly forming and rejecting plans. One way or another, he had to get into that throne room.

A predatory grin grew on his face as a plan began to form. Oh, this would be fun…

"Alice, would you mind waiting here for me to open the door?" he asked.  
"As long as you save me some of the fight," she nodded in agreement.  
"Promise," he nodded, before turning to the Fearail. "Alright, boys. Follow me. We're gonna sneak up on the knave from behind."  
"I hope he squeals like a little girl," a younger Fearail named Yorath grinned.

Dafydd snorted in amusement, heading down the hall. The nearest passageway entrance was just around the bend. Granted, they'd have a hike ahead of them; it'd be a convoluted trip to double back to the throne hall. But the element of surprise would be well worth it.

There were niches set in the wall at regular intervals; in each was a waist-high pedestal, on top of which was a vase filled to the brim with everblooming branches of apple blossoms. Dafydd smiled faintly to himself in memory. Regina loved this hallway, in all its whimsical impracticality. They used to waltz down its length any time they used it… a tradition he was looking forward to reinstating.

He sighed, shaking his head to refocus. Before he and Regina could dance through the castle, he had to rid them of this pest infestation. He walked purposefully towards the correct niche, waving his men closer. On his instructions, they moved the vase and pedestal away, and Dafydd pressed in the correct stone, opening the concealed doorway.

Dafydd lit two torches, passing one back through the line while keeping the other for himself. After sending a warning for silence since he wasn't sure if the soundproofing would be enough to cover the sounds of thirty-five soldiers, he took off down the passage, trying to remember the quickest way through the maze.

Truth be told, he'd always hoped there would never be a need for the Fearail to know the passages existed. Not that he didn't trust his men, but a secret was easier to keep the fewer people that knew it. Still, they didn't know exactly how extensive the secret paths were, and they didn't know how to find the entrances. So he would hold his tongue, and the secret would keep.

He rolled his shoulders, savoring the sweet fire of the Battlelust flowing through his veins as he reached the end of the passage. The throne room was just beyond. It was finally time to take revenge, for Regina and for himself.

Gently, he eased the door open a crack, assessing the room. A full one hundred of the Albion faced the double doors, clearly expecting attack from that quarter. Dafydd smirked; well, that was proof that Jack had never discovered the secret passageways. Excellent. And Jack was in his throne, alone and vulnerable and conveniently closer to Dafydd than to the guards. Baring his teeth in a feral smile, Dafydd silently slipped through the door, creeping up behind the so-called King.

Jack's yelp of alarm, muffled by Dafydd's hand clamped over his mouth, alerted the guards that something was afoot. They whipped around, alarmed to see the Fearail pouring out of the wall. But when they made to charge, Dafydd held a dagger to Jack's neck, effectively halting them.

"Think carefully," he warned them. "Follow my instructions and you'll all walk out of here alive."

Jack squirmed, and Dafydd dropped to one knee, using his massive arm to pin Jack to the chair.

"Would you stop?" he growled, annoyed.  
Mouth freed, Jack started yelling. "Arrest this man! Arrest all these men! They're all traitors!"  
"Stop talking or my hand slips," Dafydd warned Jack.

He dug his dagger in just slightly to emphasize his point. The drums beat louder as he thought about how very easy it would be. One quick cut, a gushing torrent of blood, and this was all over. Jack would be dead, Dafydd would have his revenge, and Regina would be safe. No more Usurper, no more danger, everything resolved.

But he had promised Regina, he reminded the Battlelust. She had asked him not to kill Jack, because of her White Vow. He was her Champion, it was his job to protect her, but he didn't have to kill Jack to do that. Alice would take quite good care of Jack in her dungeon. He promised Gia; wasn't that more important than his own revenge? He'd broken too many promises; he could keep this one.

Jack hissed, and a man that Dafydd dimly recognized as Jack's Champion strode forward, drawing his sword. At once, every last one of the Fearail had their weapons trained on him.

"No," Dafydd halted his men. "He's mine."

Catching young Yorath's eye, Dafydd nodded down at Jack, silently instructing the younger man to come secure the King. This Yorath quickly did, grinning as he grabbed a curtain tie and used that to tie Jack down. Freed from having to secure the False King, Dafydd descended the three dais steps, waving his men back to clear enough room for him to duel Duff.

His mistake during the Suitors' Joust, Dafydd reflected while thrusting, ducking, parrying and lunging, had been in toying with Jack, playing Cat and Mouse in order to tease out the challenger's weaknesses. He wasn't going to make that mistake this time; too much rode on this. He needed to subdue the Albion, keep Jack contained, and then go find his wife and make sure she hadn't gotten herself and their son in trouble. He had no time to play games with Duff.

Luckily, Duff didn't appear to be in a playful mood, either. He seemed more intent on trying to kill Dafydd, which was just fine with him; it gave him an outlet for the Battlelust. He rained down on Duff, disarming and knocking him to the ground, then setting the point of his claymore under Duff's chin.

"Yield," he commanded.

Duff snarled, but had no choice. Nodding, Dafydd withdrew, turning to consider the bound form of Jack.

It happened quickly. A grunt, a shout, a sharp pain in his bad shoulder. Dafydd whirled around, ignoring the pain of the dagger, just in time to see Alice drive the Aliblay through Duff's abdomen, ruthlessly dispatching him.

Dafydd groaned; well, there was the firebrand to explode this powder keg.

The throne hall exploded in violence as the Fearail and Albion and Clubs clashed (when had Dafydd's men even gotten the throne hall doors open?). Dafydd threw himself into it, hating every second of this. The hall, while spacious, was nowhere near large enough for this; this would be a massacre if he couldn't contain it quickly.

"DROP. YOUR. WEAPONS."

Dafydd had only felt a wave of Power like that once, when the Hightopp Elders had stopped the battle on the Brae a few years ago. Unlike last time, he didn't try to fight the Order, allowing his claymore to clatter on the ground and join the brief cacophony of weapons and bodies falling.

The soldiers parted like waves, backing away from the figure who had spoken. Dafydd's breath vacated his lungs in a rush; Fates, it was Regina. A Regina he had never seen before, even before the Fates-accursed Suitors' Joust. She had always ruled well; she'd always been a good Queen. But her belief in her Sovereignty had always been tentative and hesitant. There was no hesitation now. She was Queen, and she knew it, and she embraced it. She glowed with a light he hadn't seen since the day of her Queenmaking; the life force of the Heart of Crims and, he thought, the Music of the Hightopps. She radiated Power and Command. By all the Days in Underland, she was magnificent.

It certainly didn't hurt that while she'd been hiding, her maids had gotten their hands on her. Dafydd didn't recognize the gown she wore; the style was entirely different from the medieval-inspired dresses Regina had preferred before his exile. This gown was more structured, with a sculptured bodice that emphasized the tiny hourglass of her waist, and a lower neckline than he was accustomed to seeing on her (he was most certainly not going to complain). The skirt fell from her hips into a generous freefall, with a chapel train behind. The gown was, of course, a deep amethyst purple, but the fabric shimmered ice blue when the light hit it. And she wore a full parure of gold and amethysts; crown, necklace, earrings, bracelets, ring, and brooch. She had never looked as regal, and Dafydd stared at her for a long moment before he remembered to close his mouth.

She paused before the steps, somehow managing to look down at Jack despite the fact that he was elevated on the dais.

"Dafydd," she said, her voice colder than he had ever heard it. "Get him off my throne."

He couldn't help his smirk, and so he didn't try to wipe it off his face as he strode forward. As he passed her, he did a double take, and the Battlelust surged forward again. She was covered head to toe in cuts and bruises. The Light of the Heart and the Song had kept him from seeing earlier, but close up there was no hiding the damage she'd endured. Snarling, he turned Regina's head to look at a particularly nasty cut at her hairline.

"What happened?" he demanded.  
"Later," she said softly, laying her hand over his. "Jack first, please."

He growled, not at all happy with his wife's priorities. But he obeyed, striding forward and ripping the curtain tie off of Jack before hauling him to his feet, re-tying him, and marching him off the throne. Regina nodded, giving him a faint smile in thanks before walking up the stairs and sitting on the throne in Jack's place.

Could everyone else feel the way the very stones heaved a sigh of relief, the way the columns vibrated for joy now that the rightful Queen once again sat on her throne?

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: I'm sorry for the kind of abrupt and weird not-quite-cliffhanger cutoff. Originally, this chapter contained everything from build-up to battle to aftermath. It made the chapter _obscenely_ long (and it ain't short by any stretch even now), so I decided to split the original chapter in half, and end things here for today.

There will, however, be a really short BTP chapter, just to detail what Regina got up to in the hours between leaving for Crims and showing up in the throne room to stop the battle, coz I'm not gonna have time to detail that.

**Costuming Note**: I am deeming this note necessary because Dafydd is a stereotypical straight dude and sucks at describing clothes. Regina's new style is based on the Belle Époque (specifically the designs of the House of Worth from 1900-1910). I can't quite pin down why I find it so perfect that Regina's style has evolved over the course of this saga from 1890s (Aboveground) to 1770s (Marmoreal; Champion) to 1880s (Azure Princess of Witzend) to 1200s (Queen of Crims) to 1950s (Queen of Hearts) to 1900s (Restoration). But I absolutely love the fact that she's settled on Belle Époque fashion. Go google it, y'all, coz it is beautiful and utterly perfect for Gigi. (Plus, this means Dafydd in a waistcoat. You're welcome.)

**Translation Note**: As always, online translators are shady as hell so I can't guarantee the accuracy of this.

ffwcio yr holl ieir: Fuck all the chickens. (I agree with Rhys, I have no idea what Dafydd has against chickens, but I feel like we should all be concerned.)


	10. Settling Scores

**Author's Note**: After 65 chapters (seriously, count 'em), it feels really weird to be actually resolving problems and wrapping this saga up.

This chapter is kind of episodic in nature; moreso than many other chapters in this Book have been. I don't think it's quite as choppy and Frankensteined as the last chapter was, but if you feel like it skips around a bit… yeah, kinda.

I have some images gathered for what people are wearing, particularly during the trial scenes. If you're interested, shoot me a message. But all you really need to know is that Regina and Arianrhod now have Dafydd wearing formal military uniforms, and it is Good.

**Warning**: There's blood in the first couple of scenes of this chapter, because after all we did just survive a pitched and desperate battle, and lots of named characters got injured (one of them quite seriously). Nothing is specifically described, aside from there being a lot of blood, but I wanted to give you a warning anyways, just in case.

**Special Thanks**: As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 for the beta job.

* * *

As she walked up the dais, the intricately carved throne was all Regina could see. Carved of the same blue-veined marble as her (original) foundation stone, it had been months since she had sat in it, or felt the pulse of the Heart flowing up through the marble to fill her with its wisdom. Jack had spent months sitting on her throne in her stead, imposing his own rule on her country. Had the Darkness infected her throne, too? Would she be safe as she sat there, or would she once again fall victim to the Darkness and the Madness that came with it?

_No fear_, she reminded herself, focusing on the comforting weight of her gold and amethyst crown. Whatever her worries, she supposed they didn't really matter now, did they? She was the Queen of Crims, chosen and re-chosen by the Heart. If the Darkness tried to infect Crims through her, well… She would figure out some way to combat that. This crown, this throne… They were hers. She wasn't giving them up again; not to Jack, and certainly not to some semi-sentient shadow force.

Drawing a long, slow breath, she ascended the final step and sat down on her throne.

For the briefest moment when her eyes lit on her former husband, Regina faltered, her fingers trembling on the marble arms of her throne as a hint of the Chill raced up her spine. Even though Jack was restrained in Dafydd's ironclad grip, and though he was surrounded by her loyal Fearail who all had their swords bared and trained on him, there was no stopping the fury and hostility in Jack's icy eyes. Chains or no, this was still the husband who had dosed her with a deadly cocktail of Teas for months, and driven her to Madness. He was still the man who had brutalized her by night, and disempowered her by day. He was still her enemy, and she still feared him.

But, she reminded herself, it was all over now. She and the Heart had taken her power back from Jack and the Darkness. Dafydd had secured the palace from the Albion. Jack was nothing, now; he couldn't hurt her anymore. He was a criminal, and a prisoner, while she was (finally) married to the love of her life, and Queen.

"I believe it was your mother who decreed 'sentence first, verdict afterwards'," she said cooly.  
"Are you going to order 'off with my head'?" Jack asked, looking up at her sullenly.  
"No," she replied shortly, gripping the arms of her throne. "That would be against my Vows. Neither will I order you banished. I've noticed that those who are banished to the Outlands never seem to stay there," she said drily as her Outlandish bodyguards chuckled, and Dafydd smirked at her. "You are going to stand trial for your crimes against me, against Crims, against Marmoreal, and against Underland. Until the High Queen sets the date, you will be imprisoned in the North Tower, where once you imprisoned me."  
"I think not, Regina," Alice said, striding forward with a grim look on her face, made all the more fierce by the bleeding cut along her hairline.  
Regina blinked in confusion. "Mama?"  
"On my authority as High Queen, I will not allow you to imprison Jack anywhere in your vicinity," Alice declared. "He is clearly a danger to you, not to mention Crims, and himself. I will take custody of him."  
"I… Yes, Mother," Regina said, trying (and rather failing) not to sound sheepish.

With an authoritative nod, Alice turned to Dafydd, raising an expectant eyebrow. Was it Regina's imagination, or did Dafydd legitimately pout as he handed Jack over? Alice's smile was decidedly dangerous as she watched two of her Clubs secure Jack's bonds.

"Yes, that should do it," Alice nodded. "Now then, General," she said, turning to face Dafydd. "I will leave half of my forces at your disposal to aid in the clean-up effort. Pray return them when you bring my daughter to Witzend for Jack's trial."

Dafydd inclined his head, shooting Jack a burning glare (which Jack was more than happy to return). Alice rolled her eyes at Regina in a very clear response of, "_control your men_." Then she spun around on her heel, leading her troops out of the hall.

Regina sighed in relief as Jack was marched away, and Dafydd climbed up the stairs to take his place at her right shoulder. Now that Jack was confined and Dafydd was home, she could begin to reclaim the palace. She would remove all trace of Jack, and maybe someday it would be as though he had never been here. She would exorcise him from the country, from the castle, and maybe, hopefully, from her psyche.

"The castle is secure?" she asked her Fearail.  
"It is, your Majesty," Cefin reported as he entered the hall. "The Albion and Cards have all been disarmed and contained. Rhys has his company and mine occupied with the injured."  
Regina didn't flinch, but she did draw a slow inhale. "Were there very many wounded?"  
"Yes, my Queen," Cefin said grimly. "The Albion and Nobles were fighting for a long time before we got here."  
"Deaths?" Regina asked faintly.

Cefin nodded silently. This time, she did flinch, keeping her eyes closed for a long minute as that news lay heavily on her conscience.

"I'm sure Rhys is moving them to the Healers' suite. Send for Healers from the city," she ordered. "Dafydd, please ask your mathair if she'll come from Tearmunn. We'll prepare the Summer Vale for the burials," she added, referring to a small valley outside the city that was commonly used for funerary rites.  
Dafydd laid a hand on her shoulder, his thumb stroking the back of her neck as he squatted beside her throne. "This wasn't your fault, Gia," he murmured.  
She shook her head. "I should have come up with a plan that wouldn't cause so much bloodshed. When Mary said she'd create a distraction for me, I didn't think-"  
"There was going to be a fight, cariad, no matter what," he cut her off, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple. "You haven't broken your Vow."  
She swallowed hard. "Yes I have," she whispered hoarsely. "I attacked Lily, Dai. Twice. I threatened the Doctor."  
Dafydd's eyebrows rose. "Well, the Doctor probably deserved it," he said drily.  
"And Lily?" Regina asked hopelessly.  
"Some days, Lily deserves it too," Dafydd said.  
"Dafydd!" Regina chided, hitting his shoulder.  
"Ow!" He laughed, rocking back on his heels. "You know I'm right."  
"You're incorrigible," she informed him.  
"S'why you married me," he replied, knocking their foreheads together.

Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile as he leaned forward to kiss her. Would there ever come a day when their marriage felt like a fact, not a dream?

"It'll be alright, dearbadan-de," he told her softly. "Underland will understand."

She laced her fingers with his and wished she could believe him.

Sighing heavily, her attention drifted to the Albion. Here, at least, was a situation she could fix.

"Where is Captain Duff?" she asked.  
"Uh… Dead, m'lady," Trev replied rather sheepishly, shifting so she could see the body. "There was a duel. Your mathair got involved."

Regina glanced up at Dafydd, who shrugged unrepentantly. Only just barely keeping from rolling her eyes, she returned her attention to the Albion.

"Who is your second-in-command, then?" she asked.  
"Not here," one of them replied. "Duff sent him outside."  
"I can fetch him if you want," Trev offered.  
"Please," Regina nodded. "Dafydd, if I could have a moment."

Without waiting for his response, Regina stood and walked behind her throne, crossing the back of the dais to where one curtain hung loose (so that was where her Fearail had found rope to restrain Jack). As she slipped behind the curtain, she laid a hand over her heart, cautiously sensing for the heart-bond she shared with Dafydd, cataloguing the dark anger and pouding drums of his Madness. She'd seen the Battlelust burning in his eyes when she walked into the hall; that needed to be dealt with quickly, before he did something regrettable.

She stood pliant as Dafydd turned her, pushing her into the wall before framing her face with his calloused hands. And then he was kissing her, punishing and demanding; the kiss of Madness. It was fairly terrifying to be in his grasp when he was lost to his Madness like this; they'd been in this position before, and that Day hadn't ended well for either of them.

But she couldn't let him know she was frightened; she had to pull him back to sanity, and preferably before he rejected her and broke their hearts again. So, instead of trying to escape his fury, she submitted to him, standing on her very most tippytoes and sliding her arms around his neck. He growled in satisfaction, kissing her even more fiercely as her hands stroked along his taut shoulders. She whimpered quietly, melting into him as she caressed him, simultaneously soothing him and checking for injuries.

She felt more than saw the moment when he began to relax; she felt his shoulders easing, felt the tension leaving his back and jaw. She hummed in approval, fingers stroking his beard-covered jaw and cheekbones, softly soothing the beast until he was calm again.

"It's alright," she said softly, running her hands through his hair. "We're both alright, everything's fine. Shhh, ma taavi. Come back to me."  
Dafydd sighed wearily, resting his head atop hers. "You're bleeding, Gia."  
"It wasn't Jack. I took a tumble into a rose bush," she assured him. "I'm alright. We're safe."

Dafydd sighed again, in relief this time. He slid his arms around her waist, cradling her and their unborn child.

"I told you you'd get in trouble without me," he grumbled.  
"You have no room to talk anymore," she replied, holding up her hand so he could see the blood slicking her palm.  
"Huh," he said distantly, only now registering the pain from the knife wound. "Forgot about that."  
"Mhm," she said, eyes narrowing.

Gently pushing the hulking moron back, she smoothed down her dress and hair before stepping back up onto the dais and into the view of everyone in the hall.

"Cefin, Dafydd's injured," she rose her voice, settling back down on her throne.  
"Of course he is, the hulking moron," Cefin equitably replied, strolling forward and pulling the basic healing supplies out of his pack which all of the Fearail carried.

Dafydd grumbled, but submitted to having the wound patched when Regina glared at him.

"I suppose it's too much to hope that you'll actually spend the next few days resting in bed," Cefin said with a long-suffering sigh.  
"No, he will," Regina declared, folding her arms as her eyes burned caramel with anger and gold (Fates, Dafydd was glad to see her eyes turn gold again). "I will _make_ him."  
Dafydd smirked down at her with a lascivious leer. "Are you going to keep me company, dearbadan-de?"  
She blushed prettily, but nodded mulishly. "I'll do what needs to be done to keep you from pulling your stitches."

His smirk deepened. True, he hated being an invalid. But if he got to spend a few days in bed with his wife… Well, he'd be Mad to pass that chance up. Dafydd was many things, but he was not the one in this marriage who had frequent issues with Madness.

He leaned in for another kiss, more settled now that he was sure Regina was (mostly) alright. He pouted when she pulled away after only a short peck, tossing Cefin and the Albion's second-in-command an annoyed glare. Later, he promised himself; as soon as Regina was finished with issuing clean-up orders, he was taking her upstairs and keeping her very, _very_ busy.

Regina drew a fortifying breath, raising her chin and getting back to business. "What is your name?" she asked the soldier.  
"Duncan," he replied shortly.  
"You and your men turned your swords on unarmed civilians, Duncan," she said, her voice steely and cold. "The very people you were tasked to protect. I would be well within my rights to have you all imprisoned."

Duncan's eyes darkened, but a glance at his captain's body apparently reminded him to mind his manners.

"We did as the King ordered," he said.  
"Do you think that absolves you, saying you did it under orders?" Regina scoffed.  
"The King was clear when we signed up, Lady," Duncan muttered. "If we disobeyed, we'd die, and our families would suffer."

Regina leaned back in her throne, considering that. Sadly, she could believe that Jack would employ such terrible tactics to ensure his men's loyalty. The Albion had still done terrible things, both today and in the last several months, but if they were victims of Jack's just as much as everyone else…

"Why didn't you rebel yourselves?" Dafydd asked from where he stood at Regina's side. "I know Jack hasn't paid you in months. If you'd walked away, how could he have enforced his orders?"  
"The Cards," Duncan replied. "He has hands in all our villages. A word from him, and our people are dead."  
"And if I were to pay you what Jack owed?" Regina asked. "Would you go home peacefully?"  
Duncan glanced back at his men before looking back up at Regina. "Aye, I imagine some would," he nodded. "But the rest of us… We've no way to earn but to sell our swords."

Regina looked up at Dafydd, asking a silent question. He scrunched his face in thought, before nodding once. Regina smiled faintly, then inclined her head toward the crowd, allowing him to make the declaration.

"And if we offered to let you stay?" he asked, folding his arms.  
Duncan laughed derisively. "We were fighting you five minutes ago, Outlander. Why should we trust you now?"  
"Because he is my King and my Champion," Regina interjected, blithely ignoring the surprised mutters from the Albion. "And if my Ace of Hearts decides to extend you an offer to be absorbed into his army, then I will of course yield to his decision. I would much rather have more soldiers to ensure my country's safety than prisoners in my dungeons."

Duncan looked back at his men again, before nodding his acceptance of the arrangement. Regina nodded once in recognition.

"Let any of the Albion who wish to enlist into the Army do so," she stated. "The rest will be given their pay and allowed to travel to their homes."

As Cefin and his men escorted the Albion out of the hall, Dafydd leaned against the top of the throne and raised an eyebrow at her.

"I hope you're not expecting me to let them join the Fearail," he said.  
Regina made a face. "Of course not. The Fearail are the Queensguard. Clan only, by order of the Duke of Tearmunn. But isn't it better to have them near, where you can keep an eye on them and make sure they don't cause more trouble?"

Dafydd raised an eyebrow in acquiescence. Now just when had Regina gotten that thread of steel in her voice? And since when had she become so pragmatic? He wasn't sure he liked it; at least, he didn't like what it meant. That the last of her innocent naivete had been stripped away at last, that she had lost her endearing eccentricity as a result of everything that had happened to her. He exhaled, silently mourning that their son would never know the carefree, sweet little daydream his mother had once been.

"Now then," she said briskly, looking up at her Champion. "If you'll have your men round up the Nobles still able to walk, and any prisoners we've captured, we can start cleaning this mess up."  
"Yes, my Queen," Dafydd nodded.  
"And Dafydd?"  
"Yes, my Queen?"  
"Your hair wants cutting, you shaggy lion."

He burst out laughing.

The moment of merriment died a quick death when a grey-faced Tristan ran through the door. Dafydd tensed, stepping in front of Regina to confront the problem.

"Tristan?" he rumbled.  
"Your Majesty, we need you in the dungeons," Tristan panted. "It's Duchess Contrary."

* * *

Rhys sat on the floor of the dungeon, Mary's body carefully draped in his lap. He did not scream; he did not panic. He also did not move; as long as he held perfectly still and balanced Mary just so, she wouldn't lose any more blood, and he could keep her safe.

He didn't turn or call for help when he heard several pairs of feet rushing toward him. He knew it would be Gigi, Dafydd and Tristan; he'd sent Tristan to fetch the Queen, and where Gigi went, Dafydd followed. Nothing especially noteworthy there.

"What happened?" Gigi demanded, falling beside him as her skirts billowed around her.  
"She came down here to free the Nobles loyal to you," Rhys replied, having gotten the story from the Nobles, who had already been moved upstairs for treatment and healing. "Duff found her. She tried to fight him."

Regina keened low in her throat; she knew as well as Rhys that while Mary had received some lessons in self-defense from her revolutionary father before his death, she was far from an expert. Clearly, judging by the jagged wound and all the blood, the confrontation had gone about as well as one would expect. The wound in Mary's abdomen was serious; Rhys had bound it as tightly as he could, but he didn't dare risk moving her, for fear of aggravating the injury. But without moving her to medical help, she would surely die.

Regina bit her lip, clearly struggling with herself, before she exhaled in a huff, forcing the words out quickly. "Dafydd, find Afanen and bring her here."

All three of the Fearail stared at Regina, stunned. Had she lost her mind? Regina and Afanen weren't exactly on good terms; never had been, even before that whole upset with Afanen poisoning Regina. So why…?

"She has training in healing," Regina said impatiently. "She can find or make a Tea to stabilize Mary until we can get her to a Healer. Now go!"

Dafydd nodded, pressing a kiss to Regina's forehead before turning sharply on his heel and hurrying off. Meanwhile, Regina leaned forward, brow furrowed in concentration.

"Mary?" she asked softly, reaching for her friend's hand.  
Rhys shook his head. "She hasn't been responsive since I found her."

Regina flinched; she wasn't trained in the healing arts, but she knew that wasn't a good sign. If only they could carry Mary to the Heart. Mary was of Crims, the Heart would take care of her…

Wait.

Regina frowned, thinking it through quickly. The Heart had Its own realm, in the darkness behind and between spaces, beneath and behind and within and above and below Crims. But the Heart had claimed her as Its own; in a way she too was the Heart. The Heart had the ability to heal Itself, the land, Its own… So did that mean…?

"Gigi?" Rhys frowned.

She didn't answer him. Instead she closed her eyes, gripping Mary's hand as she searched within herself, focusing on her heartbeat and the way it echoed the beat of the Heart.

_Mine mine mine you are mine_

_She is yours_

_She is of me_

_She is hurt_

_I will heal myself_

Rhys gaped, staring as a white glow emanated from Regina's skin. He'd never seen it before, but he knew what it must be; Power. The light poured out of her, wrapping around Mary and brushing against her skin, sinking in and causing Mary to glow before settling within her.

As Regina drew a long breath and opened her eyes, Dafydd returned, leading Afanen by a chain connected to the manacles around her wrists. She raised her head slowly, forcing herself to be calm as she looked at her second-greatest enemy.

She knew it was wrong to hate, but oh, she hated Afanen. She hated Afanen for her intimidating beauty, for her hauteur, for having ever had a claim on Dafydd, for daring to break his heart and being fool enough to let him go, for making Regina into a docile, Tea-addled puppet and for giving herself to Jack. She hated Afanen simply for existing, and oh, it was so tempting to set aside her vow of nonviolence and make Afanen _pay_ for what she'd done!

Sanity— and her breath— returned when Dafydd lay a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. Regina drew a shaky breath, laying her hand over her Beloved's as she collected herself, feeling the ring he'd given her sitting heavily on her finger. She was better than this, she chastised herself. Yes, so Afanen had done horrible things; what of it? Regina was Queen of Crims, not Afanen. Regina, not Afanen, was Dafydd's wife; Regina carried his son. Afanen, for all her scheming, was nothing. She was powerless now, and harmless. What had Regina to fear from her?

Besides, Afanen was scarcely recognizable. Her glorious golden locks hung in dirty, matted-down ropes, her hourglass figure had become gaunt. Her gown was filthy and tattered, and she was barefoot. Even her spiteful glare was a pale echo of her former hauteur. How far had Afanen fallen!

"What do you want?" Afanen asked, her voice sullen.  
"Watch your tone," Dafydd chastised her, as if they were complete strangers and not formerly Betrothed.  
"Two things," Regina replied, rising so they were on more equal footing— as equal as could be managed, given the height disparity between them (and really, it was entirely unfair that Afanen should be so much taller than she). "First, I want you to brew a Tea for Duchess Contrary, to aid in her healing. And then brew whatever Teas or tinctures the Healers need for the injured."  
Afanen scoffed. "You'd trust me to brew Tea?"  
"Trust you? Of course not," Regina retorted. "But I figure that you'll behave yourself under Madam Gwynyth's eye."

Regina barely managed to retain her composure as Rhys and Tristan snickered (Dafydd, bless him, kept a carefully blank face). Everyone knew that Dafydd's mathair had never liked Afanen, and would be quick to turn on her should Afanen attempt any mischief.

"And the second?" Afanen asked resentfully.  
Regina tilted her head, considering the pathetic creature before her. "Jack set you up to take the fall for him about the Teas, didn't he?"  
"Why else would I be in a dungeon?" Afanen snapped back, but she quieted under Dafydd's warning glare. "Yes, your Majesty."  
Regina nodded. "What if I offered you a deal?"  
"What kind of deal?" Dafydd cut in, frowning.  
"The High Queen is going to have Jack stand trial for his crimes," Regina addressed Afanen. "I want you to testify against him."  
"And in return?" Afanen asked.  
"You won't keep your rank or position," Regina warned her. "You won't remain a Noble, and I won't allow you at Court. But I'll absolve you of the charges against you, allow you to return home."  
Afanen shook her head. "There's nothing for me in Tearmunn."  
"Then what would you like?" Regina asked warily.  
Afanen was quiet for a long moment. "A shop," she finally decided. "Money and supplies to set up an apothecary in Isla Affalin. And a license to sell Tea."

Regina and Dafydd exchanged a glance. The shop was no problem, but allow Afanen to sell Tea, when the substance had caused them so much grief? How could they trust that their subjects would be safe?

"I'll need to think about the Tea license," Regina finally said. "But I'll agree to set you up in a shop in town."  
Afanen nodded. "Then I'll testify."  
Regina nodded in acknowledgement. "Tristan, please lead Madam Afanen to the kitchens. Keep an eye on her until Madam Gwynyth arrives. You can unshackle her, and arrange for some sleeping quarters and clothing. She'll remain as my guest until the Healers have finished with all the injured."  
"Of course, milady," Tristan said, leading Afanen out of the dungeon slowly enough so that Rhys could follow with Mary's body.

When they were alone, Dafydd raised an eyebrow at her.

"That was lenient," he commented.  
Regina sighed. "I want it over," she replied. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life dwelling on what Jack did, or how Afanen helped. And I wanted her gone. This seemed like a good arrangement."  
"I'm not arguing," Dafydd replied, stroking her cheek. "But you're alright?"  
"I think so," she nodded. "I will be."  
Dafydd nodded, accepting that for now. "Let's get you out of here," he decided, taking her hand and leading her out of the dungeons.  
"Yes please," Regina replied, following docilely. "There's still a lot of work to do."

There would be so much work ahead for them in the next several weeks; so much rebuilding and healing and restoration to be done. But for now, Regina let herself relax. She was home, and she wore her crown, and she and Dafydd would make everything alright again.

* * *

Rhys was fairly certain he was receiving the benefits of nepotism right now.

Consider: the army of which he was a (dare he say, vital) part had that afternoon successfully completed a somewhat-peaceful reclamation of their home. His Ace had, the moment the victory was confirmed, set all of his soldiers as well as the troops the High Queen and the Queen of Marmoreal had left to work— carrying the wounded to the Healers, digging graves for the dead, preparing to travel to every town, hamlet and hideout in the country to announce the reinstatement of their beloved Queen and to force the Cards to stand down.

Rhys, as second-in-command of the Fearail, the Queensguard, should have been busy doing something. Dafydd had taken Regina to her quarters— supposedly to have her eat and rest now that her numerous scratches and bruises had been seen to. More likely, they were _celebrating_ their victory (honestly, Rhys thought with fond indulgence, newlyweds were so transparently predictable). With his Ace— and oh brimini, marrying Gigi had made Dafydd _King_, hadn't it?— _occupied_, Rhys as Deuce of Hearts should have been left in control to supervise the Heart Army's efforts.

And yet, here he was, sitting at the bedside of the Duchess of Tirnan Og. Granted, Gigi had asked him to stand guard over Mary— as Regina's Mistress of the Household and Lady of Honor, Mary was one of the most important people of the Court, and needed protection, especially considering she'd been gravely injured during the Cards' Rebellion.

But any of the Fearail could have stood guard as effectively. The fact that Gigi had asked Rhys specifically to stay at the bedside of the woman he loved, when duty would have sent him elsewhere… That's where Rhys was sure that nepotism was coming into play, and he thanked his lucky Stars for it.

Sighing, Rhys hunched over in his seat, taking Mary's hand in both of his as he catalogued every detail of her condition. The sword wound in Mary's abdomen had been serious, and her body had lain in the dungeon for so long before discovery. It was a miracle that the Healers were now cautiously optimistic that she would live. Fates, it had been such a close call. He had almost… She had nearly…

Shuddering, Rhys stood, walking away from Mary's bed. He turned his attention to her flowers— not a small task, since Mary had about as many plants as Regina had hats. Some of her beds were looking rather the worse for wear; understandable of course, since Mary had been busy helming a revolution. Still, he figured she'd appreciate someone taking care of her babies. Since he apparently had no other duties until she woke up, and considering that apart from Mary herself Rhys was the most knowledgeable person in the castle regarding all things botanical, he might as well keep himself occupied.

It was soothing, Rhys reflected as he shed his weapons in favor of Mary's trowel and shears, and set aside combat to tend to weeding, pruning and fertilizing. He'd spent so many long months in war mode; mounting tensions between the Fearail and the Albion, then exile, then operating the Resistance (and there had been more combat and bloodshed involved in that than anyone liked), and now this sudden rebellion that had brought them all home. It was an abrupt end to months of stress, and Rhys was having trouble believing it was all over, that he was tending these plants for pleasure, not to send messages or to prepare healing salves or poisons. And yet, it was peaceful; pleasant to think of nothing save the needs of each plant he came upon.

"For a soldier, you're not bad at gardening."

Rhys paused in the midst of weeding the tiger lilies (who were so pleased to have room to stretch their roots that they were purring), glancing over his shoulder to meet Mary's eye. She was drowsy still from sleep and medication, and a bit pale from blood loss, but her eyes were clear and burning bright with her fierce determination to live.

"For a gardener, you're not bad at soldiering," he replied, standing and washing his hands free of dirt before crossing to her. "How do you feel?"  
"Like I got stabbed through the stomach," she said drily. "Has the takeover begun yet?"  
"Begun and ended," Rhys assured her. "Jack's defeated, the Albion are disbanded, and Duff's dead, the bastard."  
"That's too bad," Mary sighed. "I would've liked to see the fun."  
"I think you've had enough excitement for a few months," he replied. "I should ask Gigi to send you to Tirnan Og until you're recovered."  
"You'll come with me?" Mary queried. "We can get married there."  
Rhys raised an eyebrow. "Are you proposing?"  
"No. I'm arranging," she declared. "Less dithering that way. Now, were you ever planning on kissing me?"

Rhys laughed low in his throat as he leaned over her bed. He'd never been given to verse, but right now it didn't seem so hard.

"Mary, my Mary is extraordinary," he murmured, lacing their fingers. "And bloody contrary through and through."  
"So we'll go to my home and in the gardens we'll roam," she continued, twining her free hand in his shirt to draw him to her. "And there we'll declare our I Do's."

Proposal made and accepted, their lips reunited. If this was the ending of months of tension and worry, Rhys decided, he hadn't done so badly for himself.

* * *

Tea Parties in Berserka were normally quite relaxed, informal affairs. Usually, Tea Parties were a break from Alice's aggressive trading and diplomatic efforts; a place where the Blue Queen, Sapphire King, Sky Prince, and whatever dignitaries happened to be in the capital city could congregate to enjoy themselves. Typically, no business was conducted at a Tea Party; they were occasions of pleasure, by order of the Hatter.

Today was not a typical Tea Party.

This afternoon, only five people sat around the Tea Table. High Queen Alice of the Clubs, dressed in a rather formal gown of royal blue trimmed with black, with a high collar that cut down to a squared neckline, a tightly wasped bodice and a bustled skirt, sat regally in her armchair, her usual tricorn hat replaced by the formal silver and blue-absalam crown of the High Queen.

Beside her, in his usual place at the head of the table, lounged the Sapphire King of Witzend. He was resplendent in a peacock blue velvet tailcoat, an emerald watered silk waistcoat, and Hightopp tartan trousers, his Hightopp Hat tilted at a rakish angle over his wild hair. On his lap bounced the Sky Prince, who kicked his fat legs as he played with a mess of his athair's ribbons.

On Tarrant's other side sat the restored Queen of Crims. She was garbed in similar formality to the High Queen, in a beautiful example of Crims' new fashion. The undergown was of white silk overlaid with delicate lavender gauze. Over this buttoned the overdress, of a heavy sapphire silk embroidered with gold floss. Regina had foregone her crown in favor of her Hightopp Hat, and her white curls were arranged in an elaborate hairstyle favored by many of the older Ladies of the White Court.

Beside Regina sat the Ace of Hearts, who would have preferred to stand back in the shadows as he used to. But he'd caved at the combined insistence of Regina, Tarrant and Alice, taking his place at the table "like proper family," as Tarrant had put it. Dafydd envied Tarrant's ability to lounge in his armchair; Dafydd's formal military uniform allowed for no such slouching. The heavy jacket was royal purple, trimmed with gold epaulettes and buttons, and a large embellished heart on each cuff. The trousers, at least, weren't so bad; he had room to bend his knees, and they tucked into his boots quite like his preferred informal wear. It wasn't the most comfortable getup he'd ever worn, but the predatory gleam in Regina's eyes when he'd walked out, freshly shaved and trimmed and wearing this ridiculous uniform… Well. There might be some benefits to it.

But any thought of marital impropriety would have to wait until after they'd gotten this mock trial settled, Dafydd reminded himself.

Mock trial, because he was pretty sure Alice and Regina were the only two taking it seriously at all. In Dafydd's opinion (and Tarrant clearly shared the sentiment), how could anyone seriously believe Regina guilty of breaking her White Vow?

"Well, yes darling, of course I agree with you," Alice was saying. "Attacking a sister-queen is a very serious offense. But I'm not quite convinced that it's punishable."  
"Are you serious, Mama?" Regina asked, pouring everyone more tea. "That was the very definition of breaking my Vow! I attacked Lily with the intent of doing harm."  
"Yes my dear, I understand your point," Alice replied. "But you were also Mad at the time."  
"We're all Mad here," Regina said, waving her hand dismissively. "That doesn't negate the Vow-"  
"No, but you must admit, it's a salient point," Alice cut her off. "The Vow stipulates that you will not consciously, deliberately harm a living being. What I'm asking is, when you attacked Lily, were you consciously and deliberately _choosing_ to attack her? Or did you fly at her in a fit of Madness? Because they're not at all the same thing, and I don't think we can count the latter as _choosing_ to break your Vow."  
"Whether I chose to or not, the fact remains that I _did_ break it," Regina argued. "You can't look past that just because I wasn't fully in control of myself."  
"Of course I can look past it. That's my whole point," Alice argued back. "If you were Mad, under the influence of the Teas, then it wasn't your choice to attack Lily. Either time. The Doctor, too. I can only punish you for your conscious choices, darling, not for things that were well outside of your control."  
Regina leaned back in her chair, nonplussed. "So you're telling me that there are no consequences?"  
"Don't be Mad, dear," Alice said, waving her hand. "Of course there are consequences. As you said, the Vow was broken. That is the consequence. I'm merely saying that as I understand the situation, you were not responsible for the breaking. That fault lies elsewhere—with the Teas. And so, ultimately, with Jack. I'll not punish you for his sins. That would be Madness."  
Regina sighed. "How do I make amends, then?" she asked. "For whatever unintentional part I played in the breaking?"  
"Go to the Heart," Alice told her. "Reaffirm your commitment to the Vow. Make the conscious choice that you were denied in the moment."

Regina nodded slowly, biting her lip thoughtfully. Stifling a sigh, Dafydd caught her hand, twining their fingers together.

"I told you it wasn't your fault," he couldn't resist informing her.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

* * *

The Hall of Justice in Witzend's capital city of Berserka hummed with the excited, anxious mutterings of the many Underlandians who had crowded into the cavernous chamber to witness the unfolding drama. Animals and Humans alike chattered to their neighbors, craned their necks to get a better view, and compared their versions of recent events in an attempt to ease their uncertainties about how this proceeding would proceed.

In her time on the throne, High Queen Mirana had done much to ease her subjects' fears about Court Days. Underlandians had slowly come to trust that they could air their grievances in a court of law without losing their heads for it, as they would have under Queen Iracebeth.

But Alice wasn't the former High Queen; she was bound by no oath to withhold from violence. And with the son of the last Queen of Hearts on trial, Iracebeth's bloody legacy hung heavy in everyone's memories, and old fears were beginning to resurface.

The High Queen's visage did little to assuage her subjects' fears. She was pale and grave, garbed in severe, navy robes. Her crown glittered coldly atop her head, and her scepter was in her hand. This was the first case Alice was hearing publicly since her ascension into High Queenship, and clearly she intended to make a spectacle of it.

Jacoby Praecordia, the now-former King of Hearts, sat on the left side of the hall in the defendant's podium. He wore one of his favored tailored red suits, his platinum hair slicked back off his face. He had been held in Alice's dungeons for the last three weeks, but one couldn't tell that from looking at him. He was very good at looking the part of the wronged-but-rightful ruler. Well, of course he would be; so much of trial was putting on a good show. Jack had always been good at spectacles.

But, Regina reminded herself, no amount of spectacle would be enough to distract Alice from the truth. Jack had done terrible things— to Regina, to Crims, to Marmoreal, to Tearmunn, to Underland Itself. He would be punished. Regina had nothing to fear.

But she couldn't help being afraid. When faced with the man who had disempowered her, brutalized her, drugged her to Madness and death… How could she not be afraid in his presence? Bad things tended to happen to her when they were in close proximity; she couldn't just leave that conditioning behind.

At least she had Dafydd, she consoled herself. Ordinarily, no one would be allowed to stand in the podium with either plaintiff or defendant. However, given Regina's status as a White Queen, and the fact that Jack had killed Regina once… Well, Alice hadn't raised any objections to Dafydd remaining at Regina's side in his capacity of Queen's Champion.

"Let the trial begin," Alice announced, tapping her scepter against the arm of her throne. "Bring forth the first witness."

Regina didn't quite manage to suppress her grin as Lily strode into the hall and confidently ascended the witness platform between the two podiums. Goodness, did she ever look fierce; as hard and shining as the Diamond for which her family was named.

"What do you have to say about this matter?" McTwisp inquired.  
"Jack arranged the murders of the former High Queen and King," Lily announced. "And of the Lion of the Red Lands."

A wave of stern mutters erupted at Lily's proclamation, until Alice silenced them by banging her scepter on her throne.

"A serious charge, Lily Palladia of Marmoreal," Alice stated, using Lily's formal name. "What is your evidence?"

Lily clapped her hands. Six Marmoreal Pawns entered the hall in pairs, each pair carrying a bulky trunk.

"Jack used his mistress' estate at Tearnan Beo as a hiding place to develop the poison that killed them," Lily stated. "Duke Blancmilque, formerly of Marmoreal, lately of Crims, was once Keeper of my mother's alchemical cupboards. He knew how to brew what Jack needed. There are letters, too, detailing the plot," she added.  
Jack scoffed. "Why would I possibly want to poison my aunt?" he asked, his voice a mocking drawl.  
"Why would you possibly want to poison your wife?" Dafydd shot back. "Remove all opposition."  
Jack snarled, a queer light in his eyes. "Why you-"  
"Who'd like a spot of tea?" Tarrant interrupted brightly, rolling out a massive tea service.

By the time the Hatter had prepared cups for the Main Persons of the Trial, Jack had lapsed into a resentful, glare-filled silence, while Dafydd rather obviously moved so that he stood between Jack and Regina, shielding her from his glance.

"Next witness," Alice called.

Regina stood very still in the podium, very carefully schooling her face to calm as one of Alice's Suits escorted Afanen into the hall. Despite her plain, unadorned clothing, Afanen held her head as high as any queen, and Regina felt a fierce wave of the old jealousy. Ugh, why did Afanen have to be so… _much_? It wasn't fair. They had made their deal, and Regina would stick to her end, but that didn't mean she was pleased about being in the same room with both Jack and Afanen, let alone allowing Afanen into the same room as Dafydd. Fates, what a tangled web was woven between the four of them.

"What do you know of these unfortunate matters?" McTwisp opened the questioning.  
"I was Jack's mistress," Afanen announced, holding her head high through the wave of mutters. "He confided all of his plans to me."  
"You knew of the plot to poison Queen Regina?" McTwisp verified.  
"I did," Afanen confirmed. "Jack had given an old book of his mother's full of Tea recipes to the Doctor, charging him to experiment with their brewing. The Doctor was not aware that Jack then took those Teas to feed to the Queen," she clarified. "As a Duchess, I was a member of the Queen's retinue, had access to her chamber and to her food. I injected Fear, Doubt, and Anger into her food. The Queen had tea with the King daily. During those teas, he would swipe her teacup with a handkerchief doused in Lust, Confidence and Happiness. Teas aren't meant to be ingested with tea," Afanen explained. "They work against each other and unbalance the one who ingests them. Jack intended to drive the Queen irreparably Mad, thereby incapacitating her and allowing him to take the throne in her stead."  
"Thank you, Madam Afanen," Alice said gravely. "You are free to go."

Regina exhaled shakily, clasping her hands together tightly over the gentle swell of her abdomen. She knew the gist of Jack's plan, of course, but it was one thing to know the gist and quite another to hear the details laid out so plainly. It was a miracle she had survived.

"Next, please," Alice called once Afanen had cleared out.

Regina bit her lip as her three maids walked into the hall and took the stand. Oh, she wasn't looking forward to this part…

"My good ladies, what have you to say about the Queen's state during her marriage to the former King?" McTwisp asked.  
"When the Queen fell Mad, she was removed from our care," Azalea began. "She was locked away in the North Tower, and tended to by a Nurse of the King's choosing."  
"What do you know about the… physical relationship… between the King and Queen?" Alice asked delicately.  
"It was abusive," Clover replied when Azalea faltered. "He only paid attention to her when he wanted to be in her bed. He was terribly rough with her, and he always bruised her. The last time was the worst, but it built up to that for months."  
"I believe he also threatened her," Azalea added. "Her safety, and that of… those she loved."  
Jack scoffed. "I did what was needed to ensure her faithfulness," he spat. "And even that failed to keep her from whoring herself out."  
"Silence!" Alice snapped, absolute venom in her voice. "I did not ask for your opinion."  
"Why did you not come forward?" Tarrant asked grimly. "To the Ace of Hearts in Annwyn, or to the High Queen and myself?"  
Azalea shrugged helplessly. "They were Betrothed, Bound, and Blessed," she replied. "What could any of us do against a vow like that? There was no way to dissolve the union, so what could any of us do to help her?"

In her throne, Alice was looking a bit green around the gills. Well, of course she would; as difficult as it was for Regina to be reminded of what she had endured, it must be terrible for Alice to hear the details of what had been done to her daughter. Regina had never confided the details of her life with Jack to her parents; it must be terribly upsetting to hear them now.

"Right. Now that that's settled," Alice said, curling her hands around her mug while at her feet little Prince Abraxas banged his mathair's scepter on the ground. "Carry on, please. Next witness?"  
"The Carpenter, my Teacup," Tarrant announced.  
"Ooh, how interesting," Alice smiled. "I've never heard a rumor give testimony before. Will said ghost make himself known?"  
Smirking, Dafydd rose his hand. "Present."  
"You!" Jack snarled, gripping the sides of his podium. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ it was you, and no one believed me! Off with your head, by order of the King!"  
"I think you'll find that order hard to carry out," Dafydd said smugly, folding his arms. "Considering I _am_ the King. Be a bit odd to lop off my own head."

Jack's growl wasn't enough to drown out the sound of the Hatter's teacup shattering.

"King," Tarrant repeated blankly.

Jack grinned viciously, seeing how this news might win him an ally. Dafydd and Regina froze, exchanging identical looks of growing horror as it dawned on them—

"You're _married_?!" Gwynyth Hightopp exclaimed, leaping to her feet from where she sat with the Hightopp elders.  
"You didn't even tell us?" Alice asked, her eyes narrowing in displeasure.  
"Um… oops?" Regina tried meekly. "Surprise?"

Tarrant stood, his skin and clothing fading as his tartan kilt brightened and his eyes began to burn.

"Ye merrit mah dochter. In secrit. Withit us. Outside ay yer homelain?" he growled at his revealed son-in-law.  
Jack snickered gleefully. "Surely that invalidates the vows."  
"Not that that aids your cause," Mary Contrary called to Jack from the sidelines.  
"Whieest!" Tarrant snapped to the general assemblage, returning his glare to Dafydd. "Weeks since yer return, an' ye ne'er thought tae mention 'at ye merrit mah wee laddie? Hoo am Ah supposed ta give mah dochter 'er weddin' gown if Ah dinnae ken it's needed?!"  
"Da, please!" Regina burst out, wriggling to stand in front of her husband as though that would protect him from her athair. "We meant to tell you and Mama, honest! We just… got distracted. You know. Retaking the queendom, and all."  
Tarrant drew a sharp breath through his nose. "We're nae done talkin abit thes, mah son," he vowed in a growl, before sitting down in a huff.  
"And when Laird Tarrant's through with the pair of you, it'll be my turn," Gwynyth said darkly.

Dafydd and Regina each winced, trading rueful glances to the amusement of the assemblage. Well honestly, they had this coming, for marrying in secret and denying Tarrant a chance to throw a party.

"Right," Alice said after a moment, visibly pulling herself back together. "If we might return to the point at hand-"  
"I won't allow my son to be raised by an Outlander exile," Jack snarled.  
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Dafydd said gleefully. "He's not yours."

Jack froze, the frenzied light in his eyes flaring. Regina swallowed hard, reaching for Dafydd's hand and sighing in relief when he shielded her from Jack's view again.

"Dafydd, please," she whispered, huddling into him. "He's still under the sway of the Darkness. Please don't agitate him."  
"I knew my wife was nothing but a traitorous Outlander's whore," Jack sneered, spitting at them. "You would put your bastard on my throne?"

Dafydd snarled, stepping forward and half-drawing his claymore as Regina tried to stop him. In response, the Clubs stationed by both podiums gripped their axes, training them on both Jack and Dafydd.

"Enough!" Alice bellowed, surging to her feet. "Dafydd, sheathe your sword or surrender it. Jacoby, hold your tongue or be muzzled."

Growling, Dafydd sheathed his claymore with a half-bow to Alice, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. Jack, by contrast, bared his teeth and laughed.

"And this is to whom you would entrust my mother's country," he sneered, voice dripping with derision. "Everything I've done, I've done for Crims. Because I stepped into the Darkness, and the Heart spoke to me there. She chose me to cleanse Her, and all of Underland, from all of Regina's Uplandish filth and nonsense. To restore Underland to her pure wild magic."

Alice gestured sharply, and Jack's diatribe was cut off as a Club gagged him.

"I've come to a decision!" Alice announced.  
"How marvelously hasty of you, My Alice," Tarrant commended her, doffing his Hat as he swept his wife a grandiose bow.

Regina's heart leapt into her throat. Because she knew, she _knew_ what punishment Alice was likely to mete out. And despite everything Jack had done to her, Regina couldn't just sit back and allow this fate to fall on Jack's head. Not when she knew this Truth about the man she'd been married to.

"May I speak?" she burst out.

Alice quirked a curious eyebrow, inclining her head in permission. Ignoring Dafydd's muttered expletive-laden objections, Regina stepped forward, laying her hands flat against the podium to still their shaking.

"I believe Jack has proven himself Mad, and a danger to himself and others," Regina stated.  
"He has," Alice nodded in agreement.  
"You told me, your Majesty, that when one is Mad they cannot be held fully accountable for their actions," Regina reminded her mama. "If Jack truly is Mad, how can he be punished for what he's done?"  
Both of Alice's eyebrows were raised now. "Are you comparing the actions of… that case… to this one, Regina?"  
"I don't see much difference," Regina replied.  
"Don't you?" Alice asked. "I also told you, did I not, that the importance lay in one's _choice_?"  
"But if Jack was under a malevolent influence, how can he have chosen?" Regina asked.  
Alice shook her head. "I see what you're trying to argue, Regina. And it's a noble impulse, truly. But the two cases aren't similar at all. In the one, the plaintiff was driven deliberately Mad, and was beyond rational choice. In this, I don't see any evidence that Jack wasn't fully in control of his actions."  
"You haven't felt the Darkness, Mama," Regina dared to say. "I have. And I don't think Jack was any more in control than I was under the Teas."  
"That's where you're wrong, girl."

Really, it was quite impressive how a being as tiny as Zhithene could make her voice so very loudly heard.

"Greetings, Keeper," Alice said politely. "You have something to say?"  
"Aye, I do," Zhithene nodded, settling herself down on the witness podium comfortably as she prepared her hookah. "Your girl's a fool, Alice."

Regina huffed in indignation, which Zhithene blithely ignored. When the Keeper had taken a long drag of smoke, she continued.

"Your mistake is in thinking that Jack is operating under the same rules you are, little pili pala," Zhithene declared. "You are bound by the White Vow, and it has shaped your thinking and your behavior. You are bound to cause no harm, and so all of your actions reflect that commitment. Jack is under no such oaths. You were driven to Madness, through no fault of your own. Jack made the choice to open that Door to Darkness. He knowingly brought that Chaos to Crims. So yes, he did choose to cause harm, and the fact that he went Mad doesn't protect him from the consequence of his actions."  
"But-" Regina tried, before Zhithene cut her off again.  
"What is the White Vow, Regina?" the Old Woman asked.  
She sighed in irritation, but answered. "That I will not cause harm to any living creature."  
"Exactly," Zhithene nodded in satisfaction, fixing her most serious gaze on the young Queen. "Sometimes, little Queen, doing no harm means _preventing_ harm being done. I know what you're trying to do, and it's noble. Truly. It takes a great soul to extend mercy to an enemy like this one," she said, jerking her head in Jack's direction. "But it's not just Jack you have to think of. You are Queen; you _are_ Crims. You must not cause harm to any of the citizens of Crims, either. And whatever you are thinking of doing for Jack, I promise you, it will cause harm to the citizens of Crims."  
"But that's not a choice at all," Regina protested. "Either way, someone is harmed."  
"That is what it is to be Queen, sometimes," Zhithene said gravely. "So what is the greater sin? Failing to protect one man, or failing to protect thousands?"

Regina's lips trembled, and her head bowed under the terrible burden. But the Old Woman was right.

"I will not cause harm," she said softly, her voice choked. Raising her head, she looked her mother in the eye. "I will abide by the High Queen's decision."  
Alice nodded, standing. "Jacoby of the Elder Branch of Praecordia, son of the Red Queen Iracebeth, former King of Crims. I find you guilty of crimes against all the Lands and Queens of Underland. You have given yourself to the wild Darkness, and so I decree that you shall be fed to that Darkness in punishment for your sins. This shall be done upon our return to Crims, after the birth of Regina's son. Until then, you shall be returned to my dungeons."

Alice banged her scepter against her throne, indicating the end of the trial. As Jack was led away by General Koda, Regina exhaled shakily, heavily leaning against Dafydd. It seemed impossible that it was over; equally impossible that she was allowing this particular ending. It seemed like a dream, and Regina couldn't tell whether or not she wanted to wake.

"Easy, cariad," Dafydd murmured, sliding an arm around her waist to support her. "Breathe. Everything's alright."  
"It feels so wrong, that it might actually be over," she said faintly. "I can't believe it."  
"Me either," he admitted. "But it's good, isn't it?"  
"I… Yes," she said slowly. "Yes. It's good."

Dafydd pulled Regina closer, understanding her bewilderment. He wondered how long she would be haunted by the decision she'd made, and whether she'd be able to forgive herself for what she'd needed to do to protect her queendom.

Alice fixed a judging gaze on Regina and Dafydd, interrupting their reverie.

"We'll be having that talk now," she ordered.

Dipping her head meekly, Regina allowed Dafydd to help her out of the plaintiff's podium before they followed Alice, Tarrant and Gwynyth out of the Hall of Justice. Funny, the prospect of the dressing-down they were about to endure seemed even more terrifying than this trial had been…

"We'll be alright, Gia," Dafydd murmured, gently tugging one of her silver-white curls.  
"Assuming our parents don't kill us," she muttered back.  
He scoffed. "We're making them grandparents, they should be thanking us. It's more likely they'll yell a bit, then throw us a party. You know your da's been looking for an excuse to Futterwhacken."

Despite her worry, Regina giggled. She hoped Dafydd was right; after all, they did have so very much to celebrate…

* * *

Lily bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet as she stood at the prow of the _Dawn Seeker_. Maybe if she bounced hard enough, it would send shock waves through the water and the resulting waves would push her to the harbor more quickly.

In the week since Jack's trial, Lily had made her peace with the verdict. She respected the fact that Regina's White Vow compelled her to plead for Jack's life. But compared to the monstrosities Jack had committed against Regina (and Crims), Dafydd (and Tearmunn) and Lily (and Marmoreal)? Mad or no, Regina's mercy would have been too lenient. As hard as it might be for Regina to accept, Alice's punishment really was the most just course of action.

She wasn't really upset (well, not very much) that she would be missing the actual execution. Though part of her did want to watch Jack's punishment with her own two eyes, at the end of the day it was enough to know that the execution would happen. Either way, it was finished. It was time to move forward now.

With the mystery of her parents' murder solved and the perpetrator's trial complete, Lily could finally bring her siblings home. Hence her current presence on this boat. She could have let Ioan bring them home on his own of course… but where was the fun in that? Shadhavar was more than able to step in as Regent for a couple of weeks; why not leave him to it?

And anyway, it wasn't as though she'd be carrying the burden of Crown Keeper much longer. At that happy thought, Lily wriggled in glee, scanning the rapidly approaching harbor. Were they there? She'd told Ioan via Looking Glass that she'd be arriving today…

A chorus of excited yelps and squeals caught Lily's attention as the ship was moored. Racing to the deck, Lily barely waited for the gangplank to be laid before barreling down to the ground and racing toward her little welcoming group. She threw herself at her siblings as they leaped on her, and for long moments it was tears and laughter and hugs.

She only let her siblings go when Ioan greeted her, and then only because he'd swept her into a kiss so fervent she had to cling to him, or topple.

"I missed you," he murmured as they finally came up for air.  
"Uh-huh," she replied, dazed. "Me too."

Grinning smugly, Ioan leaned in for another peck before pulling away to corral the White Children.

"We'd better get back," he told them. "Rissa's waiting."

As the children cheered and ran toward a nondescript carriage, Lily bit her lip and tugged on Ioan's arm.

"Has she gotten worse?" she asked, keeping her voice pitched low.  
Ioan sighed, squeezing her fingers. "She's not beyond help," he murmured encouragingly. "Once she's home, the Doctor says she'll perk right up."  
Lily sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I wish I could've ended this sooner."  
"The important thing is that it's over," Ioan countered. "We'll be home soon, and we'll get married, Rissa will recover, and we'll move on."

Lily tilted her head, an idea blooming. But she kept her own counsel as she climbed into the carriage, focusing on her brothers and sisters as they traveled to Liegeling Ero's palace. As soon as the carriage stopped, Lily vaulted out, leaving her siblings to scamper off where they willed as she made her way to the secluded, quiet room where the Doctor and his Companion Pond were taking care of Nerissa.

The sound of music arrested Lily's progress, and she paused in the doorway to observe. Nerissa lay on a chaise, wrapped in a thick shawl in defense against the chill breeze coming from the sea. Her eyes were closed not in sleep, but in concentration as she listened to the music.

The tune was haunting, by turns brooding and mournful. Terribly sad, but undeniably beautiful. The performer was young; more boy than man. He should've been too young to understand a grief this profound. And yet, from what little Lily knew of the young man (who she'd surmised to be Ioan's young cousin, Gregan Hightopp), he was quite well versed in tragedy.

"Are you homesick, Gregan?" Lily asked when the music trailed into silence.

Both young people jerked in surprise and looked up. Upon seeing her, Gregan's face closed off, becoming indifferent and unreadable. Standing, he sketched her a perfect half-bow that still seemed empty and insincere before gathering the composition texts and scrolls he'd apparently brought with him.

"Oh Lily, it's so good to see you," Rissa sighed, struggling to sit up.  
"Oh no you don't," Lily chided her, rushing over to ease her sister back down. "Don't exert yourself."  
"Have you come to take us home?" Nerissa asked wistfully.  
"Yup," Lily nodded, smiling as Rissa's whole face lit up.  
"Really?" she asked hopefully.  
"Really and truly," Lily grinned. "The _Dawn Seeker_ sails in three days."

Squealing in excitement, Rissa lunged forward to hug Lily. Laughing, Lily hugged back, laying her head on her sister's.

"When we get home, we'll host your Queenmaking as soon as you're well," Lily said.  
Nerissa pulled away, frowning. "What? Lily, you're the Queen-"  
"I'm not, actually," Lily interrupted calmly. "I'm a Crown Keeper. The Diamond Mind chose you as Queen when Mother died, but I had to send you away for your own safety, until I was sure there was no more threat of you being killed as well. So the Diamond Mind accepted me as Regent until you could come home."  
Nerissa stared at Lily, awed. "I… I'm the Queen?"  
Lily nodded. "That's why you got so Homesick. It's very hard for Queens to be separated from their countries."

Nerissa leaned back in her chaise, seemingly stunned. Seeing her shock, Lily debated holding her tongue, but… well… that had never been one of her gifts.

"I have a question for you," she said. At Nerissa's curious nod, she forged ahead. "Before we sail for home, will you marry Ioan and me?"  
Ioan spluttered, clearly caught offguard. "I, um… what?"  
"What?" Lily asked, amused by his surprise. "We keep delaying it because of crises, and I'm fed up with that. There's always going to be another crisis. But we've got a quiet period now. Quietish," she amended, considering the months and years of rebuilding that Underland was facing in the wake of Jack's destruction. "So why not just do it? Dafydd and Gigi eloped, why not us?"  
"What?" Rissa and Gregan gasped in unison, her jaw dropping in glee while he looked stricken.

Oh, that's right. Nerissa had always looked up to Regina, and the two had become as close as sisters since Regina's return to Underland. But Lily was willing to bet her favorite rapier that Gigi hadn't been in contact with Rissa much (if at all) since the Suitors' Joust.

"Oh. Yes, they're married," Lily said dismissively. "And expecting a child. I'll tell you the details later."  
"What?" Gregan repeated in a hoarse voice, his face gone white with shock. "But… No. No, he _can't_!"  
"Whether he can or not, it's done," Lily shrugged.  
"How could he betray us like that?" Gregan burst out, before throwing his books down and sprinting away.

Silence fell in the wake of Gregan's departure. Nerissa gnawed her lip and fiddled with her sash anxiously, while Lily frowned in confusion. What had _that_ been about?

"Brimini," Ioan muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'd better go after him."

He headed for the door, then paused, returning to kiss Lily deeply.

"You Mad, daft, impatient woman," he said fondly. "I'll marry you as soon as I get back."

That promise made, Ioan hurried out after his wayward relative. Grinning, Lily turned to Nerissa.

"I suppose that means we need to get you into a dress," Rissa said thoughtfully.  
Lily made a face. "Why can't I just get married in my breeches?"  
"Absolutely not!" Nerissa exclaimed, looking scandalized. "You may be just a Crown Keeper, but you're still a princess. If we're doing this, we're doing it _right_. Sisi can get the flowers, and Rora can charm Liegeling Ero into ordering a feast. He'll do anything, if she asks him. He's quite gone on her, you know. Maybe he'll even let us use his sanctorum for the vows. And I can keep the twins in line for an hour or two, I think."

Lily rolled her eyes. If she'd known Nerissa would be like this, maybe she wouldn't have asked her to witness the Vows…

Still, Lily couldn't help but be excited. Relinquishing the Crown, bringing her siblings home, marrying Ioan… This was a new beginning she couldn't wait to start.

* * *

**Additional Author's Note**: There will be two short BTP chapters posted next. One of them is all about Alice and Tarrant's reactions to the news of Gigi and Dai's marriage (it gave me _so many feels_, you guys), and the other is about Gigi and Dai's first night in Isla Affalin after Gigi's reinstatement (it's basically porn with feels. _So many feels_.).


	11. Endings and Beginnings

**Author's Note**: This fucking chapter was a bitch and a half to edit. Which is unfortunate, because I really enjoyed writing it and was actually quite proud of it at the time. But then the edits happened, and I had to work out a new scene or three, and it was just a pain in the scut. But I am quite happy with the way it turned out, so there's that at least.

**Warning**: There's a whole gamut of potential triggers and/or squick. We've got childbirth (including not-very-specific mentions of a difficult labor, and quite a lot of blood), severe anxiety (via the Chill), character death, mutilation of said character's corpse by a semi-sentient non-human force, and passing mentions of sex (three times. Because newlyweds.). Nothing is terribly graphic or prolonged, but as always your mileage may vary.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my lovely beta Ranguvar27 for the wonderful job.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Dafydd's crown: www. goldenstag MiscSCA/ CrownAndCoronetPhotos/ CalontirCrownPrinceAndPrincess. jpg

**Music Note**: Nerissa plays _aisatsana_ by Aphex Twin (youtube it, it's gorgeous).

* * *

Grumbling a steady stream of inventive curses, Ioan stormed through the forested acres on the far northern edge of Liegeling Ero's estate. Ioan had been searching the grounds for his troublesome young relative Gregan for hours. Ordinarily, Ioan would have left his kinsman alone; Gregan had undergone his Manhood Rites a long time ago. If a grown man wanted to be left to himself, that wish should be honored. But Gregan was an odd, sullen sort, and his frustration was with his uncle and guardian. Whatever friction existed between Gregan and Dafydd, it needed to be resolved. Preferably before Dafydd took Regina into seclusion for her lying-in. Family matters should never be dragged out; really, Ioan was doing an extremely good deed to be tramping out for hours as he had.

Besides, Gregan had been upset when he scampered off. Ioan knew his family; emotional upset was a prime trigger for Madness. According to Laird Tarrant, the men of the former Nazari had a stronger inclination to anger-based Madnesses than their now-deceased brethren. Ioan had brought Dafydd down from enough bouts of his form of Madness to know that the clan malady was no joke. If there was even the slightest chance that Gregan was roaming about Mad, Ioan owed it to his family and his clan to ensure Gregan's safety.

"Od's Breech," Ioan swore, drawing to a halt. "Where under the Stars did the whelp get to?"  
"Have you tried the Oceansea garden?"

Ioan startled, turning to face Nerissa. She cocked her head, the lantern she held in one small hand throwing her pale face into relief against the dark fabric of her thick velvet cloak. Though still wan and sickly-looking (the Doctor couldn't cure Homesickness, just alleviate the symptoms), the little princess looked better than she had in many weeks, now that she knew her return to Marmoreal was imminent. She shivered in the chill air despite her cloak, but her ice blue eyes were sharp and alert.

"You shouldn't be outside, Rissa," Ioan scolded her. "The cold's not good for you."  
"Gregan likes the garden," Rissa continued, utterly ignoring Ioan's admonition. "He doesn't say so, but I think he's Homesick too. Being right next to the Sea makes it easier. He likes to play his harpsichord there. He lets me listen, sometimes."  
"How do you know?" Ioan asked, frowning. "He doesn't talk anymore."  
Nerissa smiled shyly. "We understand each other."

Ioan shrugged, surrendering. He hadn't been succeeding on his own; if Nerissa could help, he might as well bring her along.

They picked their way through the darkness, going slowly so Rissa wouldn't stumble or twist her ankle on the rough terrain. Ioan huffed as cold raindrops splashed on his face; oh, perfect. So not only was it cold and dark, but now it was raining. If none of them got ill it would be a miracle…

Peering ahead, Nerissa paused, then rushed forward. "Gregan!"

Cursing, Ioan hurried after her, overtaking her when he spotted his wayward cousin. Gregan sat on the banister of the balcony, nothing but a sheer fall to the water below him. The way he stared out over the wind-tossed waves, the way he was leaning forward…

The next moments passed in a blur. Ioan didn't remember moving, but suddenly he was wrenching Gregan off the balcony, and Gregan was fighting him like a wild animal, screaming in Outlandish the entire time, and Fates this was every bit as hard as controlling Dafydd's Battlelust.

"Let me go!" Gregan screamed, baring his teeth. "Let me be!"  
"No," Ioan grunted, struggling to pin the younger man's flailing limbs. "What were you thinking?"  
"Uncle Dafydd's a traitor!" Gregan howled, fighting wildly. "He betrayed our clan for _her_, and they killed my athair! How dare they have a child when they took Da away from his!"

Ioan choked, stunned, because really? This is what he thought of his uncle and new aunt? Why had Gregan been allowed to persist under this misconception?

"Gregan, no-" he tried, only to be cut off.  
"It is! That's exactly what they did!" Gregan yelled. "He killed my da and married the Usurper and then he sent me away!"

Ioan's arms went slack as he reeled in shock for the second time in as many minutes. How had Gregan fallen victim to such incorrect assumptions? What the name of all the blessed Days in Underland was happening in his cousin's family?

Before Ioan could snap out of his daze, Gregan lunged for the balcony again, scrambling for the rail.

Then he froze, clinging to the banister, caught halfway between diving and flying.

The music wasn't professional. The melody was hesitant, played by a shy and inexpert hand. It wasn't pretty, per say; the music was melancholic and wandering. It wasn't ever going to be played in anyone's chamber concert. And yet, it was… compelling, Ioan decided. It was intensely personal, like someone's soul on display.

And slowly, so very slowly, Gregan began to respond to Nerissa's music.

He turned, still clenching the banister, his face twisted in a pain so raw it pierced Ioan's soul. He took one halting step, then another, staggering like a drunken man to the piano where Nerissa sat, patiently drawing him to her like the Walrus with the Oysters. Ioan didn't dare to breathe until Gregan had collapsed at Nerissa's feet, and she'd sunk to her knees before him, tenderly taking his face in her hands.

"Gregan," she murmured tenderly, stroking his cheeks.  
"You know," he gasped, tears mingling with the rain on his face. "You understand."  
"I know," she nodded, carefully pulling him into her embrace. "Let me help you."

Ioan withdrew a few steps, giving them space and privacy while Gregan cried into Nerissa's shoulder and she murmured into his ear. Well, this was… interesting. When had this connection been forged?

Never mind, he decided a moment later. The specifics of Gregan and Nerissa's friendship ultimately weren't as important as the fact that Nerissa was gently, patiently coaxing Gregan back from the darkness of Madness. When they got home, Gregan and Dafydd would have to have the dreaded Madness talk, in addition to everything else they had to hash out. Gregan had to learn how to cope with Madness now, and that was a lifetime struggle. But for now, let him find comfort in Nerissa.

Just… maybe not outside.

"C'mon, you two," Ioan called when it looked like Gregan was mostly calm. "Let's get you inside before you catch your deaths of cold, aye?"

Gregan leaned into Nerissa, clearly telegraphing his reluctance. Fortunately, years of dealing with Dafydd coming down from his Battlelust had given Ioan just the skills he needed to deal with this.

"You won't have to talk to anyone," he promised coaxingly. "Or explain anything. No one will bother you for the rest of the night. I just want to get you both out of the rain."

Whether it was Ioan's promise, or the violent shiver that suddenly shot through Nerissa, Gregan nodded and allowed them to help him stand.

Fates, was this what it was like to be a parent, Ioan wondered, this constant exhausted worry? Why did anyone do this to themselves? Why couldn't he just be the cool uncle and brother-in-law, who riled the kids up and had no responsibilities? He was not cut out for this father figure thing.

* * *

Though she had been born in the royal palace of Salazen Grum, Mary Contrary had spent most of her life at her father's estate, Conversistent. Count Contrary, fearing Queen Iracebeth's growing Madness in the wake of the murders of the Royal Hearts, had very publicly placed his wife and infant daughter on a ship headed Oversea, then (with the help of the Mad Hatter) smuggled them to Conversistent in the dead of night. The Queen of Hearts never left her beloved castle fortress, so the baby Countess was safe enough tucked away in the country.

When the good Countess Anna had died in childbirth three years later, leaving behind a grieving Mary and a sickly baby boy who died before he was two months old, Count Jackjill began to risk more frequent trips home to his young daughter. At his knee, the wee Countess began to learn the Court politics and social graces that would later serve her so well as the Lady of Honor to another Queen of Hearts.

Jackjill was beheaded when Mary was eight. Fulfilling the Count's last request, the Hatter came to Conversistent at great personal risk and smuggled the grief-stricken young Countess out of Wonderland, bringing her to safety in Schult until the Bloody Big Head was defeated by Alice the Champion.

Mary was fifteen when she finally returned to the desolate wasteland that had once been Crims. She returned to Conversistent, now fully hers, and there she remained in peace and isolation for many years. She tended her gardens, froze her Aging after she hit twenty two, rejected suitors, and kept to herself, until the day the Lion of the Red Lands came to her door and informed her that Crims had a queen again, and that the queen was none other than the daughter of Alice the Champion, now Queen of Witzend, and her husband the Hatter.

It had felt like Destiny to join the Court of the Hatter's daughter. It helped that Mary genuinely liked the young Queen, who quickly became the friend and sibling she'd never had. Leaving Conversistent to live in Regina's fairy tale palace had been no hardship at all.

In the intervening nearly three years, Mary— now a Duchess thanks to Prince Jack— had never had a chance to return to her estate. She hadn't minded; Conversistent was a mausoleum haunted by ghosts and unhappy memories. Isla Affalin, with all the excitement, intrigues, parties and drama, had been a much more fun atmosphere.

However, King Dafydd had sent all the Nobles back to their own estates for the time being. Queen Regina was expected to give birth sometime in the next few weeks, so her Champion was bringing her to their ancestral clan lands to ease the trials of childbirth. So the Nobles had been dismissed by their new King until he and Regina returned home with their little Prince, with orders to see to their lands and prepare reports of the damage caused by the Winter King.

Despite her protestations that her place was at Regina's side, Dafydd had sent Mary away with a firm order to see to her own convalescence. She was irked about that, and she didn't plan to forgive Dafydd just because he'd sent Rhys with her.

It wasn't that she didn't see the benefits of a long vacation alone with her Beloved. Quite the opposite, in fact, and she had every intention of shamelessly taking advantage of him. But she didn't like letting her loved ones out of sight; bad things tended to happen to them. She didn't want to look away and have Regina taken from her too (again).

Looking up at the imposing, rambling edifice of Conversistent, Mary shook her head and tugged on Rhys' arm.

"Leave the luggage to the gardeners," she ordered him. "Come walk with me."

One of the things she really loved about Rhys was how he went along with her whims without too many questions. It was quite handy.

As she unlocked the gate and pulled Rhys into her garden sanctuary, Mary resolutely turned her back on the mausoleum of a house, choosing instead to focus on the sun and the smell of fertilizer and the sounds of the plants, laughing and whispering and growing and _alive_.

"It's not for forever, you know."  
Mary blinked, turning her head to focus on Rhys. "Hmm?"  
"Us, being here," he elaborated, reverently touching Mary's prized, emblematic pale blue cockleshells. "It's not banishment, or a punishment. Dafydd wouldn't dare keep you away from Gigi for long."  
Mary pursed her lips. "I wasn't-"  
"Oh yes you were," Rhys grinned. "You've been grumbling about it for the last three days, don't think I haven't noticed."  
Mary huffed, plopping down on a sun-warmed stone bench. "I just don't see why we all had to leave, that's all. The palace is more than large enough-"  
"Because Alice and Dafydd are both overprotective nanny goats," he interrupted her. "You know that. And Tarrant's worse than them both, and a terrible enabler besides. Between the three of them it's a miracle that Gigi's allowed to take a step on her own."

Mary snickered, because Rhys made a good point. Smiling, he sat beside her, twining her hand in his.

"Besides, after the insanity of this past winter don't you think it'd be nice to spend a few weeks in peace and quiet?" he asked.  
"Oh, I don't know," she shrugged, leaning into his side. "It was exciting."  
"It'll be just as exciting when we get back," he promised. "You're Mistress of the Household, which'll only be more work once the baby comes. And Fates only know how many siblings he'll end up with."  
"And you'll be Captain of the Fearail again, now Dafydd's home," Mary continued. "Does that come with a title?"  
"Eh, I'll just take yours," he grinned, stealing a kiss.  
"Suppose that means we should make our Vows, then," she replied.

So they did just that.

* * *

The palace of Isla Affalin lay quietly in the gentle light of dawn. Most of the Court wouldn't be awake for a few hours yet; they'd be long gone by then. That was alright. He didn't have anyone to say goodbye to, anyways.

Funny, really; he hadn't noticed how much he had leaned on the persona of the Doctor until he wasn't one anymore. He'd gotten rather lost in the role. The Mad man with his pretty Companion, in his funny clothes and his offbeat personality, traveling the world looking for fun and usually finding trouble instead. Talking a thousand miles an hour, cleverer than anyone in the room and dazzling them all with his wit.

He'd rather mucked it up this time, though. His cleverness had made him a pawn in the Puppetmaster's play, and his disregard for consequences had gotten two innocent Queens killed (even if one had miraculously come back to life). The cleverest man in the room, and the most oblivious in the country.

Regina wasn't the only one who'd broken her Vows. At least she hadn't had a choice in the matter. He had no one to blame but himself.

He had genuinely wanted to help people, once. He'd become a Doctor with the absolute best of intentions. And he'd done such good, at first. For years he'd traveled in the Oversea countries, healing and helping everyone he ran across. Even in Underland, he'd been on the side of the angels; he'd healed people, he'd exposed evil men and protected the innocent. How had it all gone so wrong?

He'd been so thoughtless, he berated himself. A Mad, blind fool, with no cares for anything beyond the joys of the immediate problem. A cookbook full of arcane recipes; a delightful puzzle to solve. What matter why Prince Jack was interested in Tea? This was a challenge, a mystery to solve!

He should have known better. He should have seen what cost his curiosity had; he should have realized his patient was paying the price.

He had been Regina's Doctor since she returned from the Outlands. He had seen her in sickness and in health, in Madness and sanity. How could he have failed to realize that she was being poisoned, succumbing to Tea Sickness?

He knew the answer to this. He just didn't want to face the ugly truth about himself.

Because the truth was, he hadn't cared. Hightopp Madness was incurable, and the severe types often killed the afflicted. The puzzle was the important thing.

Blind. Careless. Thoughtless.

His punishment had been miraculously lenient. He was a queenslayer, at least indirectly; it wouldn't have been unreasonable to order him killed. Indeed, he was positive that had the decision been left to Crims' new King, he would have been executed. But the Queen had intervened and stayed the King's hand, saying she didn't want more bloodshed for Jack's crimes. Instead, she had banished him from Crims, commanding him to return to Frey Ian Galla, the monastic university where the Doctors received their training, there to confess his deeds to the Idris Council, the elders of his order.

Pardoned and protected by the woman he had allowed to be poisoned. He was not worthy of her.

He knew the punishment the Idris would lay on him. He would be stripped of his title, his role, and his Companion, and expelled from the order. If the Idris felt merciful, he would merely be banished from Jumphasor. If they felt vengeful, he would be brought to the Tyla, the Heart of the Doctors, and whether it would destroy all of his memories and knowledge or burn the heart from him or break his mind or kill him was anyone's guess.

But it was alright. Truly, it was. He would accept whatever ruling the Idris gave. Because he deserved it. He was a queenslayer and an oathbreaker, a disgrace to his order and a man without honor. Regina had already showed him more mercy than he deserved; he wouldn't ask for more.

At least, not for himself. He wouldn't speak a word in his own defense, nor ask for any leniency. But he would ask— beg— the Idris Council to spare Noble any punishment. She was innocent of any of his misdeeds; indeed, she had tried to help Regina. She was more a Doctor than he had ever been.

Now there was a thought, he considered. Regina was better now, but her health was still very fragile. She was beyond the help of any Underlandish Healer; she would need to be monitored by a Doctor for the rest of her life. He was clearly no longer a suitable choice, and perhaps never had been. But what about Noble? She was Regina's midwife; Regina seemed to trust her (as much as she could trust any medicinally-inclined person these days). Noble had been in training to become a Doctor before he entered the picture. Maybe it was time to let her go, let her complete that training.

He would miss her, of course. He'd gone through several Companions before he matched with her. And he'd be lost without her; she was the nagging voice reminding him to sleep and eat, the laughter in the back of his mind, the quiet whisper saying "that's enough."

But that wasn't important. This wasn't about him; this was about what was best for her. And Noble, he was certain, would make a fabulous Doctor.

As for what would become of him… Who knew? Maybe he'd be killed or broken by the Tyla. Maybe he'd wander through the realms, or settle down and become a teacher. Maybe he'd retake his name, come to Marmoreal, and court Rose, the Flower he'd helped before everything fell apart. Honestly, wasn't it kind of exciting not to have any idea where he was going? Limitless possibilities.

"Are you ready to go?"

The man who was no longer a Doctor looked up to see the woman who was no longer his Companion standing in the doorway. Their possessions had been packed and sent ahead to the ship down in the harbor. Their rooms were bare; provisions had been made. It was time.

The man once known as John Smith stood and smiled. "Yeah," he nodded. "Yes, I am."

* * *

Dafydd hardly dared to breathe as he slowly made his way from the High House out into the night. He was careful of every footfall, so anxious not to stumble or disrupt the precious bundle in his arms. But at the same time, he didn't want to dawdle; though today was Guid Nychburris and the first day of summer, it had been unusually cold all day. Though his priceless treasure was well insulated in blankets, it wouldn't do to have him exposed to the cold anymore than he already had been in his short hour in this world.

_Regina was dead white, stiff and cold as the Chill utterly overtook her, leaching the color from her skin while her sheets were stained a vivid red…_

"_Regina!" Gwynyth called as she pushed Dafydd out the door, the sharp snap of her voice barbed by her stress and fear as she rushed back to her daughter-in-law's side. "Gigi, fight this, come on now…"_

_The temperature in the room plummeted to the utterly glacial despite the roaring fire. Gwynyth and Aderyn's frantic activity provided a macabre counterpoint to Regina's frozen stillness…_

"Never mind, little man," Dafydd told the bundle of blankets in a choked voice. "We'll keep you warm, yeah?"

He walked through Hatsfield, grateful for the darkness of the late night that masked lingering evidence of that day's celebration. Were Hightopp clan parties cursed? They always seemed to lead to disaster…

_Hatsfield was a lovely enough place on a normal day. But when she turned herself out for a party? She was the most beautiful tract of land in all of Underland._

_The weather was unseasonably chill, but otherwise perfect; blue skies, bright sun, flowers riotously blooming from every nook and cranny. It was a perfect backdrop for the clan gathering to celebrate Dafydd and Regina's wedding and impending parenthood._

_Guid Nychburris was sacred clan time; one of the two annual high holidays when the entire clan gathered to renew the Song. Guid Nychburris was the more informal of the two holidays; a time for trade and the making of contracts. Tarrant had gone to Tearmunn three weeks previously in order to oversee the final preparations for the celebration, and Dafydd had agreed that there was no reason he and Regina shouldn't go with him, and retire to the High House for her lying-in. _

_Dafydd smiled to himself as he leaned back in his armchair, watching his clansfolk dancing under the Party Lights. He could relax here in the safety of his homeland. Tarrant had arranged for an absolute feast of a tea table, his very pregnant wife was in what passed for a good mood these days… Yes, this was a good day._

_Dafydd glanced over at his diminutive bride, his brow furrowing as he took in her expression. She looked odd; pale, as though she was struggling to maintain a pleasant expression on her face. She shifted in her padded armchair awkwardly, valiantly trying to hide her grimace._

"_Regina?" he asked warily, already gearing up for danger.  
"I'm fine," she answered, her strangled voice not at all reassuring. "Just… uncomfortable. I think he's trying to dance along with us…"_

_Alice frowned, setting down her teacup with a sharp clatter. She leaned forward, peering into Regina's face before understanding settled over her visage._

"_When did the pains start, sweetheart? After lunch?" she asked. When Regina nodded, Alice stood. "Dafydd, go find Healer Isabeau in the High House, please. Tarrant, a good bracing tea, and then mind Abraxas. Regina, I think your baby is ready to make his appearance."_

_A moment of stunned silence followed Alice's proclamation before Tarrant and Dafydd managed to scramble into action. Dafydd and Tarrant rushed towards the High House, and within moments the entire clan knew that their newest member was on his way…_

Hugging his burden close to his chest, Dafydd climbed the Brae, skin tingling as the Music wrapped around him, inspecting the newest singer of its Song.

When he reached the top, Dafydd shifted his grip, his heart in his throat all the time, making sure his lad's head was cradled in his elbow. He was still worried that he'd accidentally drop the babe, but the wee boy had to be able to see for this ritual— one of the very few traditions that had survived the generations since the Schism.

Softly, Dafydd began to speak, turning in each direction as he mentioned it.

"To the west is your past, where your mathair was born and from whence your athair hails," he informed the babe, very nearly choking over the word _athair_. "To the north is your present, where your mathair rules as Queen."

_Regina was quiet as the open-top carriage and the full escort of Fearail headed toward Tearmunn along the Via Abalonia. She stared morosely out over the countryside, much as she had been doing for the last three weeks as she and Dafydd toured the land._

_There was no corner of Crims that had escaped Jack's rule unscathed. Oh, Jack hadn't set out to burn and pillage the land; that would have been contrary to his desire to rule his birthright. But while Jack had sat on the throne, Crims had been hit by famine, crop failure, and the worst winter in recent memory. All this in a country that had had only a three-year rebuilding period in the wake of Iracebeth's dark and lingering legacy. Crims had been laid low by Jack; even with the best animal husbandry and crop production, it would take years for the country to recover._

_Dafydd, riding as ever at Regina's side, frowned when he heard her sigh._

"_You alright, cariad?" he asked. "Is he kicking your ribs again?"  
She shook her head. "It's just… I fear we're going to leave our children an awful mess to clean up. And all because we didn't dare to be honest with each other."_

_Dafydd winced, heavy under the same guilt Regina carried. That their bad choices had caused so many people to suffer… A lifetime wasn't enough to make up for their mistakes._

"_I've made a mess of my White Vow," Regina sighed.  
"Well, I made a mess of my Champion's Vow," Dafydd replied with a pained smile. "We're even."_

Shaking off his thoughts, Dafydd continued speaking to the child in his arms. "To the east and the south are your future, where dwell your family and allies. Here in the center is your heart and core. To the Music of our ancestors and our descendents I present you, to take your place in clan and land."

_As Dafydd moved furniture from the rooms that had been his (for all that he'd hardly used them), Regina rummaged through boxes with unbridled enthusiasm. Clothing, nappies, toys, baby furniture; gifts and tokens from commoners and Nobles all through the Five Lands and Oversea in celebration of the imminent arrival of the new Prince of Crims._

"_You know, there's one thing we haven't decided yet," Regina said, cooing as she held up a blue-striped onesie.  
"The color of the walls?" Dafydd snarked.  
"No, those will be green, like you promised," she pouted.  
"I know, I know," he grunted, shoving a side table out the door to make room for the bassinette. "What didn't we decide?"  
"A name," Regina replied. "We can't very well just call him Baby."  
"Well, we could," he said, reaching for a water goblet before leaning against the doorframe. "He'd probably resent it, though."  
"I daresay," she nodded. "So. What shall we call our little Prince?"  
"What about Ossian?"  
"Ossian," Regina repeated blankly.  
"Why not?" he asked, trying to control his grin (really, her scandalized face was adorable). "Good, solid name, that."  
"By that logic, we might as well call him John," Regina retorted, her nose wrinkling in disdain.  
Dafydd made a face. "Sounds too much like Ioan. And I swore I'd never name a son of mine after that wonder-curse."  
"You are so mean to him," Regina chided him.  
"He expects it," he retorted. "What about Myrddin?"  
"Or Humphrey?"  
"Breckin."  
"Alistair."  
"Lunn."  
"Robert."  
"Zeplyn."  
"You're not even trying to be serious anymore," Regina accused him, laughing._

_It wasn't until weeks later, when Regina lay in bed, racked with labor pains and the encroaching Chill, that she had decided._

"Andras," Dafydd spoke his son's name for the first time. "You are Andras of the Hightopps, named for your uncle who watches you from the Stars."

Reaching into his pocket, Dafydd withdrew a small golden cabochon button, and gently strung it around the baby's neck, smiling as Andras' sleepy fist closed around the token. The Music danced and trilled, singing with the vigor of a rain-swollen brook as it eagerly accepted Andras into the fold. But beneath the joy, there was a counterpoint harmony, slower and sadder, singing of pain and sorrow and worry and reminding Dafydd of all of his fears.

Ritual completed, Dafydd held Andras close, making his way back to the High House. He was grateful that no one tried to make him stop and chat; he wasn't sure he would've been able to maintain composure.

He paused outside Regina's door, not certain he could bear to re-enter the room after this nightmarish evening.

_Tarrant was very fond of his son-in-law ordinarily. But as afternoon faded into evening and then into night, and the faces that passed through Regina's door went from patience to poorly-masked concern, Tarrant's mood began to darken accordingly. Noble had warned him all those weeks ago about the risks Regina was facing with this pregnancy… If Dafydd had put Regina or the bairn in danger, Tarrant's retribution would be swift and merciless._

_His one consolation was the fact that Dafydd was an utter wreck. His knee jiggled, he couldn't sit still, and the look on his face was that of a man trapped in his own personal hell. Tarrant was very much comforted by Dafydd's agony._

"_Be calm, lad," Tarrant scowled, leaning back against the wall and shifting uncomfortably on the bench. "Yer nae doin' Regina any guid fidgetin' like a frumious Bandersnatch."  
"I can't just sit here and do nothing," Dafydd snapped, rubbing his shorn head as a long, low groan wafted into the hallway. "It can't be a good sign that it's taking this long."  
"Havin' a bairn takes Time," Tarrant reasoned. "Regina's safe enough wi' Alice an' Healer Isabeau."_

_Just then, Alice stepped through the door. At the look on her withdrawn face, both Tarrant and Dafydd shot to their feet, hardly daring to breathe as the first tendrils of panic blossomed in their chests. Oh Fates…_

"_Dafydd, I think we need to fetch your mother," Alice said shakily._

_He was down the hall before Alice had even completed her sentence. He burst out of the High House and sprinted for his mathair's cottage in the heart of Hatsfield, his heart in his throat. Oh brimini, Regina… if she was in danger he'd never forgive himself…_

"_Maman!" he yelled, bursting into the apothecary._

_The two assistants gasped in alarm, frightened by Dafydd's sudden appearance and his wild eyes, but Gwynyth appeared quite calm as she looked up from the herbs she was cutting. Indeed, she looked rather annoyed at his interruption._

"_And a good even to you, as well," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Thank you so much for the message telling me you were coming to see your poor forgotten maman! Weeks of silence from you, not even deigning to tell me you had married or that you were expecting a child, and then you let me find out you're coming to the Heartland when you show up at my door for supper with not even a by-your-leave-"  
Dafydd rolled his eyes, fear sharpening his voice. "I need your help."  
"Of course!" Gwynyth exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air before pointing her knife at him. "The only time I ever hear from you anymore is when you're in trouble, you ungrateful little-"  
"Something's wrong with Regina!" he burst out. Seeing as he now had his mathair's attention, he pressed on. "She hasn't delivered yet, and the maids look so worried, and Alice just asked for you even though Isabeau's there-"_

_Holding up a hand to stop his helpless rambling, Gwynyth flitted through her shop, snatching herbs and bottled potions. When she'd filled two bags, she shoved them into Dafydd's arms and headed out the door, calling back to her assistants to finish what they'd been doing and then they could leave for the night. Dafydd sighed in relief as they hurried through the streets of Hatsfield towards the High House; his mathair would take everything in control and everything would be alright._

_When they reached Regina's rooms, Gwynyth stopped at the door, relieving Dafydd of his burden and raising an eyebrow. _

"_You can sit down now," she said pointedly.  
He shook his head. "I'm going in there."  
"The birthing room is no place for a man," she stated firmly. "You'll only be in the way, and you'll upset Regina."  
"But she's-"  
"She is perfectly safe, or do you not trust me?" Gwynyth asked sharply. Upon seeing her son deflate, she nodded. "Stay," she repeated, before disappearing inside._

_Dafydd caught one glance of Regina's face, white with pain and Chill and covered in a sheen of sweat, before Gwynyth firmly shut the door in his face. He leaned against the door weakly, rubbing his face before slamming his fist into the wall._

"_Be calm, lad," Tarrant said once again.  
Dafydd shook his head. "What if something's wrong? What if she can't have the baby?"  
"Then I'll kill you," Tarrant said bluntly. "So you see, it's useless to worry either way, because one way or another you'll not be worrying much longer."_

_Dafydd frowned at Tarrant's violent threat, but he couldn't argue with his father-in-law's logic. So he sank back onto the bench, buried his face in his hands, and waited._

_And waited._

_And waited…_

_And kept waiting._

_The noise behind the door increased in volume and intensity. Dafydd paled, bracing himself against the wall and clenching his jaw as his eyes closed. He wished with all his might that he could take this pain from Regina, fight this battle for her. Even just to be able to give her his strength; anything to ease this struggle and aid his son's passage into the world._

_He groaned beneath his breath as Regina keened in pain; brimini, if he never heard that noise again as long as he lived, he'd count it a good life._

"_That's it," he muttered beneath his breath._

_One quick, hard twist and the doorknob broke off in his hand. Steeling himself, he pushed his way through the door… Only to step into a world of blood and sweat and terror, and sharp commands mingling with Regina's helpless cries of pain._

Before he could steel his resolve to face his own personal nightmare again, the door opened to reveal a withdrawn, exhausted Gwynyth.

"Oh good, you're back," she said wearily, wiping her hands on a towel before reaching out to claim her grandson from Dafydd's arms.  
Dafydd nodded dumbly. "Gia," he rasped, voice thick. "She's… Is she-?"  
"Fine," Gwynyth said quietly. "She's going to be just fine. She's sleeping now."

He nearly collapsed in relief. Staggering forward on shaking legs, he stepped into the bedroom, taking in the tableau before him.

Regina lay in bed, eyes closed. Fates, she was so very pale; the Chill had run out of red to take from her hair, so it seemed to be starting to leach the color from her flesh… and so, so frighteningly still. He was only slightly comforted at the rise and fall of her chest. It was too easy to imagine the fate that could have befallen her (again), that might still come and claim her.

Alice sat on the far side of the bed, holding her daughter's hand in both of hers. Dark bags shadowed her eyes, and worry thinned her lips and stooped her shoulders. Tarrant sat on the opposite side, staring into empty space as he stroked Regina's limp curls.

"I told you, Dafydd. She'll be alright."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at his mathair's voice, a fact that made Gwynyth smirk. She gently lay a sleeping Andras into a rocking cradle that Dafydd dimly recognized as having belonged to both Regina and Abraxas before turning to face him.

"She's fine," she repeated.  
Dafydd swallowed hard. "She doesn't look fine."  
"It was a hard birth. You saw that," Gwynyth allowed, fixing him with a hard Look for his disobedience about breaking into the birthing room. "She'll be weak as a newborn kitten for a day or two. But she will recover. Lots of rest and a little tea, and she'll be right as rain."  
"So why do Alice and Tarrant look so worried?" he asked in a near whisper.  
"It's never easy for a parent to see their child suffer," she replied. "And for a while, Isabeau and I were… worried. But Gigi and Andras are both well."

Gwynyth did her utmost to keep her face smooth and comforting as Dafydd walked forward to sit beside Tarrant and join in their vigil over Regina. There was no good in telling Dafydd the truth, she decided. He was already worried enough about his little wife; there was no need to tell him that for several long and terrible minutes, she had feared that she wouldn't be able to unbreech her grandson or untangle the birthing cord from his neck. For a few heart-stopping moments, she had been certain she was about to lose both mother and child, and she had fought harder for this baby's life than she had for any other delivery she had ever performed. But there was no use in crying over spilled milk; they had made it through, and they would be alright.

She smiled to herself as she observed her baby boy and his sleeping wife. What a handsome family they would be, she mused; little Andras already showed signs that he would grow to be as big as his athair, and with his parentage he'd undoubtedly be a beautiful child. No wonder Dafydd had fought so hard for the chance to make Regina his.

And she would do everything in her power to ensure that Dafydd got to keep what he'd spent so long working for, Gwynyth silently promised herself. She would keep his wife and son alive, and she would never let Dafydd know how close he'd come to losing them.

* * *

There had been quite a lot of debate among the Queens of Underland concerning the execution of the former King of Crims.

The method High Queen Alice had chosen was an unknown one. The Darkness, as Regina had named it, was an unknown entity; no one knew exactly where it had come from or even what exactly it was. Would feeding Jack to It kill him, or just make him (and the Dark itself) stronger? And if they were made strong, were the remaining Royals strong enough to defeat them?

Of particular concern to Regina was whether or not the Darkness was a humane method of execution. She had (reluctantly) agreed to Jack's death for the good of her queendom, but her (broken) White Vow extended to everyone. Even Jack. She didn't want him to suffer a cruel, painful death, but how could she be certain the Dark would provide a merciful end?

And how dangerous would this method of execution be for the rest of them? Particularly Regina? She had given birth only three weeks ago, and was only now beginning to regain her strength. The Darkness knew her, and the infant Prince; would it reach for them when It ate Jack? If so, how could Dafydd protect his wife and child?

And then, once the execution was done and Jack was disposed of, what did they do about the Darkness? Could they lock or starve It out? Make a deal with It— periodic feedings in exchange for leaving Crims alone?

In the end, it was decided that the execution would be attended by Regina (as Queen of Crims and ex-wife of the accused), the Keymaster (as Lord of Doors), Dafydd (as Queen's Champion and current King of Crims), Tarrant (as Regina's father, and High Queen's Champion), and Alice (as High Queen and the Once and Always Champion). Aderyn would remain upstairs with Madoc and the Kittens to tend to Andras. No need for the baby to witness such unpleasantness. Regina would wait outside the foundation chamber while Jack was fed to the Dark, and then she and the Keymaster would solve the Door problem.

Not an ideal solution, but good enough to go on.

Regina stood before the mutilated Door with Dafydd and the Keymaster. Dafydd was in full protector mode, his claymore naked in his hand as he stood before Regina, ready to defend her in the event that Jack attempted to attack.

Regina shivered, very conscious of the cold draft emanating from the Door behind her. She could sense the Darkness; not in the _I am You_ way she communed with the Heart, but similar to the way one sensed a thief in the shadows. The Dark was awakened by all the attention It was receiving; it felt, for lack of a better word, _excited._ As if it knew something was about to happen, and It wanted to force the Door open to speed the process.

Beside her, the Keymaster hummed thoughtfully. "I do believe I'll need to have a word with the Darkness before we try to contain it," he commented.

Regina would have replied, but her attention was diverted by Jack's arrival.

He had been shackled at ankle, wrist and neck. Each manacle was attached to a chain, which was held by a Fearail in their receptive hand, while the dominant trained a weapon on him. Jack's heavy, ornate golden crown had been melted down, the metal re-forged into a muzzle that locked around his head. According to Dafydd, his friend Aynville had had a very good time crafting Jack's restraints.

She was safe, Regina reminded herself as her Fearail led Jack past Alice and Tarrant. She was free of the Tea and Jack's terrible influence. She was protected by her parents, her clansmen, her Beloved. Jack would never touch her again; she was free. He couldn't hurt her.

She reached for Dafydd's hand anyways, more than happy to press into his side as her two husbands glared at each other. She shuddered, pressing close to Dafydd as she felt the Darkness stirring, straining to reach Jack.

"It's hungry," she murmured.

No sooner had she spoken than the Door burst open, the Darkness howling with glee as It escaped Its confinement and greedily wrapped around Jack, dragging him toward the Door.

Jack didn't even have time to scream.

Regina was vaguely aware of yelling— her mama? her husband?— but mostly, she was aware of the greedy, gobbling voice of the Dark. It was hungry, and there was so much here to feast on; so much Madness, such lovely Chaos…

She struggled against the gusts and eddies of the not-wind, fighting to focus as the Dark tried to rip her apart to drink of her Madness. The wind was trying to rip apart her mind, and she'd had quite enough of that over the years.

Deep within the depths of her core, she felt the Song vibrating, rousing Itself in response to the threat against her. The Music grew louder, pushing back against the Darkness, forcing It away from her mind. It wasn't her magic, she knew that, but she had a feeling she knew who this was. She would be having a Very Serious Discussion with her son about putting himself in danger to work magic when he was so young…

With a resounding _slam_, she forced the Door shut.

An instant later, she was swept into Dafydd's arms, and he crushed her into his chest as she swooned.

"Brimini, Gia," he cursed, frantically running his hands over her to check for injury. "Od's Breech, woman. That was stupid. What in the name of all the Blessed Days of Underland were you thinking?!"  
"The Dark is hungry," she explained, dazed. "Don't want it to eat you. Don't huff at me, argue with your son. He used the Song again."

Dafydd cursed, cradling her against him as the Door creaked open. But this time, it only opened enough to allow… oh brimini. He pressed Regina's face into his shoulder so she wouldn't see, motioning for Marc, Trev, Cefin and Iorath to gather up the brittle, desiccated corpse that moments ago had been Jack.

"Curioser and curioser," the Keymaster murmured, firmly closing the Door.  
"How do we close it down for good?" Alice asked, sounding unnerved.  
The Keymaster shook his head. "We don't."

Everyone in the room paused, exchanging surprised glances.

"Excuse me?" Alice asked.  
"What do you mean?" Regina chimed in.  
"I'm not sure how he did it," the Keymaster said. "But what you have called the Darkness, Regina, is actually the primordial Chaos from which our world was formed."  
"What does that mean?" Alice asked.  
"The Chaos has never fully left Underland," the Keymaster said. "It's the reason we're all a little Mad here, because we were all birthed of the Chaos. But for a long time— certainly since the time of Devi Adamas' arrival— the Chaos has been kept more or less at bay. Rulers of the Five Lands have tried to box and control Chaos, as they've done with Time and Destiny. Jack has let the Chaos free."  
"And we can't re-contain it?" Alice asked, gripping the Aliblay.  
"No," the Keymaster confirmed. "Chaos is a sentient force, like the spirits of each of the queendoms. We can no longer deny its influence in Underland. The Darkness will have to be contended with now, just like all the others. It will fall to the rulers of Crims to tend to it."  
"That's hardly fair!" Alice protested, as Dafydd clutched Regina close.  
"Of course it's not fair," the Keymaster shrugged. "It's Underland. The door to Chaos was opened in Crims, so the Chaos must be tended in Crims."

Regina sighed, the sound incredibly weary. Drawing away from her husband's protective grasp, the young queen straightened her spine and stepped forward.

"What must I do?" she asked.

The Keymaster smiled in approval. So very young, this little Queen; very young to have already endured so many trials and tribulations. And yet here she stood, willingly shouldering one more burden. This was the stuff of true queenship.

"I will teach you," he promised.

* * *

Originally, Regina had intended to execute Jack, close the door on the Darkness, and lay her and Dafydd's new cornerstone at the same time. But between the Keymaster's revelations about the Dark and the fact that Regina and Dafydd couldn't agree about what kind of stone they wanted as a cornerstone, the stone laying had been delayed a week.

They had been in agreement that they didn't want an identical blue-veined marble to their first cornerstone. Beautiful as that stone had been, they weren't the same Regina and Dafydd who had laid that stone. Those versions of themselves were gone forever; there was no going back to how things used to be.

For the same reason, Regina had rejected Dafydd's suggestion that she send for a stone from Witzend. As much as she loved the land of her birth, she was no longer the Azure Princess; that girl too was gone.

For a while, they had considered asking for a stone from Tearmunn. After all, they were both Hightopps; furthermore, their son already showed signs that he would be the first Songweaver in generations (incidentally, that meant Andras wouldn't inherit his mathair's throne, and they'd need to have another child. Drat.). But eventually they vetoed that idea too. Given the history between Crims and Tearmunn, it didn't seem like a good idea to install a rock that would still remember Iracebeth's atrocities.

The limestone of southern Crims wasn't strong enough. The slate from the east was what Jack had used. The sunstone of the north had potential, or the rock crystal of Prydein…

But in the end, the solution was almost embarrassingly obvious.

"Dai?" Regina asked quietly as she rocked the baby to sleep.  
"Mmm?" he asked, looking up from the game of tug-of-war he was playing with Madoc.  
"What if we used Annwyn's cornerstone?" she suggested.

Dafydd tilted his head, considering the idea. He hadn't had time to visit his estate since the Reclamation, but he knew Annwyn had been burned to the ground by Jack (the bastard). The place would need to be completely rebuilt, and while Regina had promised as many resources as necessary, it was unlikely he'd be able to move Briallen and Little Dai in until next spring.

"I could send a couple boys to fetch it," he nodded.  
Regina rolled her eyes. "Or you could go yourself."  
"And leave you on your own?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
She huffed. "You wouldn't even be gone a full day-"  
"Yeah, remember what happened the last time you said that?" he cut her off.

He got to his feet, leaning over her and tracing the scar along her hairline, a souvenir of her tango with a rose bush the day they'd reclaimed her throne. She'd sworn she would keep herself out of trouble for a day that time, too.

"You are never going to let me live that down, are you?" she grumbled.  
"Probably not," he agreed. "Only way I'll go is if you come with me."

Regina bit her lip, standing and carrying Andras to his cradle. Scraps scrambled after her, lightly leaping into the bassinette and carefully curling around his little friend.

When her son was settled down, Regina returned to the sitting room, where her husband was waiting with a bottle of elderberry wine. He waited until they were both seated with their wine before asking.

"Why won't you come with me to Annwyn?"  
Sighing, Regina looked down into her goblet as she answered. "Do you remember what we were like, in the weeks after the Battle of the Brae?"

Dafydd clenched his jaw; yes, of course he remembered those first few horrible weeks. The awkward, strained distance between them, the echoes of words he'd spat at her in Madness and grief hanging heavily between them, the burden of knowledge they each carried— that they loved the other, but believed their feelings unrequited. It had not been the most auspicious beginning to Regina's reign.

"I felt so guilty," she confessed, lifting her goblet out of the way as Buttons curled up in her lap. "I know you told me not to pay attention to anything you'd said that day, but… You did have a point. At least, I thought you did," she hurried to silence his protest before he could voice it. "You were giving me everything, dedicating your entire life to me. It's a lot to ask anyone, to become a Queen's Champion. All the more when that Queen takes the White Vow. Protecting me was going to take over your entire life. Everything would have to come second; even a wife and children, if you someday wanted them." She shook her head. "I couldn't let you sign away your entire life without giving you something for yourself."  
"Gia, dearbadan-de," Dafydd said tenderly, setting down his wine to crouch before her and take her hands in his. "You _are_ my life, ma taavi."  
"Well, yes. I know that _now_," she smiled, leaning in to kiss him.

Further conversation was suspended until they had very thoroughly re-established the depth of their love and commitment to each other.

Some time later, Regina curled up in the sheets, hitching up on one elbow to continue their conversation.

"I still want Annwyn to be a retreat for you," she declared. "No, no, listen to me," she insisted as Dafydd geared up to protest. "I'm putting even more on you now. A White Queen's Champion, Ace of Hearts, a King, and a father. I want you to have someplace to get away from it all. Someplace where you can retreat and relax, and not have to be constantly on guard and looking for trouble."  
"Annwyn can still be that if you're there," he insisted.  
Regina shook her head. "That's why you conquered Prydein for me," she rebutted. "I want Annwyn to be _yours_. Now stop being difficult," she said, smacking his chest. "Most husbands would be ecstatic to have a place away from their wives."  
"Most husbands don't have you for a wife," Dafydd retorted.

Regina smiled, and set to the task of properly thanking her husband for that bit of flattery.

* * *

"Are you sure you're up to this?"

The only answer was a groan.

"Because this can wait, if you're not. We have all the time in the worlds-"  
"You really are the most aggravating man I've ever met, Above or Below. Were you like this before we got married?"  
"Yes. Not my fault if you weren't paying attention."  
"I was distracted."  
"Distracted by what?"

In response, Regina tugged her recalcitrant husband down to her level, and shut him up with the simple expedient of covering his mouth with hers. She couldn't help but grin as he stopped their bickering to enthusiastically pursue their current activity. Much better…

She laughed softly as she found herself trapped against the stone wall. How did she keep ending up in this position?

"As a matter of interest, will there ever come a point when you're not compelled to trap me against every vertical surface you can find?" she asked, quite proud of the fact that her voice was only a little shaky and breathless.  
"Hmm. Probably not," Dafydd decided against her neck. "Will that be a problem?"  
"No, no problem at all," she gasped, arching into him.

Well Fates, who in their right or Madness-addled mind would ever object to being held captive in this man's arms?

Although…

"Dafydd Hightopp, are you trying to distract me?"  
"No. …Is it working?"  
"You are utterly incorrigible."  
"Thought that was why you loved me."  
"No, I endure it because I love you. Let me down."  
"You are no fun."  
"There's plenty of time for fun after we're done with this."

Dafydd huffed, but settled Regina back on her feet. Grinning brightly, she patted his chest before chivvying him out of her way so she could take in the fruits of his labors.

He hadn't allowed her to help him dig Jack's ugly slate cornerstone out of the wall. Which was frustrating, honestly; she was recovering from childbirth, not incapacitated. Fortunately, he couldn't complete the rest of the ritual without her participation. As soon as he had the old/new foundation stone in place, they each sliced their palms with a silver dagger, then dripped the blood on the stone, keying the castle to them and all who followed in their bloodline.

"Do you think it'll stick this time?" Regina asked as she tended to the shallow cuts.  
"We can only hope," Dafydd replied, brushing himself free of dust before (unfortunately) putting on his shirt.  
"At least we don't have to go through another Suitors' Joust," she considered.

Dafydd growled at the reminder, possessively pulling Regina close.

"Not ever again," he rumbled. "You're _mine_."  
"Always," she agreed easily. "No escaping me now."  
He grinned faintly, playing with her curls. "Promise?"  
"I vow by the Heart," she nodded. "Whom you should meet, by the way. You being Its King now, and all."  
"Thought that was covered, since you are the Heart," Dafydd frowned.  
"Yes, well. A formal introduction is only fair. Since you've refused a proper coronation-"  
"Of course I did. You're the ruler here, not me."  
"But still-"  
"No. I protect you and train soldiers. I don't do… King things."  
"Even if I order you?"  
"Especially then."  
"Rude. So you refuse to obey a command to kiss me. I'll have you know that's treason."  
"Well, when you put it that way…"

She really had no idea how they ended up several floors up, in their quarters. She'd been rather preoccupied with her insubordinate, treasonous husband.

When she'd finally adequately give him the what-for, she poked and prodded him until they stood before the armoire that contained the Heart. As soon as Regina opened the door, a strong wind blew through, wrapping around Dafydd and dragging him into the dark.

_My King.  
Uh… yes?  
You'll be much better than the Bad Man. You protect my heart.  
I will. Always.  
I've been waiting for you, Lionheart. My heart promised you to Me a long time ago.  
Sorry it took me so long.  
No more leaving us alone.  
I promise.  
Good._

It was the strangest feeling to be spat out of an armoire…

"Well. That… happened," he said bemusedly, staring at the closed doors from which he'd been evicted.

He glanced at Regina, then blinked. He knew that Time often passed differently in the presence of the Heart, but he must have been gone a while indeed for Regina to have time to bathe away the dust and grime of the foundation chamber, and don fresh clothes.

"How long was I-?"  
"A while," Regina confirmed, before smiling. "Looks like the Heart's on my side."  
"Huh-?"

Regina grabbed Dafydd's hand, half-dragging him to the nearest mirror. He looked rather ridiculous, the sheet wrapped loosely around his hips at odds with the crown on his head.

"Huh," he said, nonplussed.

It was simple, all things considered; wrought of gold, it had four points. An interlocking pattern of knot work decorated the metal, but apart from that there were no jewels or ornamentation. Still entirely impractical for combat, of course, but as far as crowns went, it wasn't bad.

Regina's beaming face appeared in the glass as she slid her arms around his waist from behind.

"It suits you," she declared. "My Lionheart King."


	12. Happily Ever After

**Author's Note**: On 26 September 2012, I finished writing the rough draft of Book Four. On 18 October 2015, I posted this, the final chapter. Five years of work, three betas, multiple cases of writer's block and emotional breakdowns and self-doubt, countless happy dances and proud smiles. And now, it's finally over. The Story Proper is now complete and finished.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Nerissa's Queenmaking dress: i00. i. aliimg wsphoto/ v0/ 1305018494/ Classic-White-Satin-Tulle-Short-Wedding-Dress-Bridal-Dresses-Custom-Size. jpg_ 350x350. jpg  
Nerissa's crown: www. medievalbridalfashions catalog/ images/ SilverMoon_ Circlet4. JPG  
Regina's ballgown: pre12. deviantart 4027/ th/ pre/ i/ 2008/ 203/ a/ 5/ butterfly_ dress_ by_ endlesssummersday. jpg

**Special Thanks**: So very many thanks to my fantastic beta Ranguvar27 for all of the hard work over the past years. Thanks to my dear friend Sandra for her help writing and massaging all the scenes and speeches that made me want to tear my hair out. Millions of thanks to my big brother Rob for spurring me to new and better ideas when I got stuck. And a heartfelt thanks to you, my dearest readers, for sticking with me for so long. Thank you for your reviews, thank you for inspiring me to better and more amazing writing, and thank you for going on this journey with me. Fairfarren, all.

* * *

Upon Regina's arrival in Crims, back when she was still the Azure Princess of Witzend, the country had immediately begun to heal itself from the damage wrought upon it first by a Mad queen, and then by long years of neglect. Within six months of Regina's return to Underland, the country had once again been a lush, verdant and prosperous queendom.

There was, however, one patch of land just outside the city that had remained barren. It was known locally as Iracebeth's Rose Garden, and it was the final burial site for the scores of people that the Bloody Red Queen had killed during her long tenure. This place, so filled with blood and misery and anger and fear, Regina had been unable to heal. Thus it had become the designated burial grounds for those in the palace and city of Isla Affalin.

It was here that Iracebeth's son Jacoby, who would be known to history as the Winter King, had been laid to rest. And it was here before his grave, marked only with a simple slab of red-veined white marble, that Queen Regina contemplated the fate of her deceased former husband.

There were a hundred other things Regina could be doing right now. She had trade reports sitting on her desk, notes for cases she'd be hearing tomorrow, an aid request from a southern town experiencing a plague of mome raths… She could be taking tea with Dafydd, or sitting beside Andras' cradle watching him sleep…

But instead, she found herself frozen to the spot, staring at the mound of bare earth that housed the remains of her ex-husband and Royal rival.

He had died seven days ago. But it seemed impossible to believe that Jack was really dead, that he couldn't hurt her anymore. Could it really be over?

Perhaps she was finding it hard to believe because she hadn't seen his death. Dafydd had kept her away from Jack's body, telling her it was no sight she ever needed to see. Part of her was in agreement with her husband; she certainly didn't want to be around Jack's remains if she didn't have to be. But part of her wondered if she didn't need to see his body, just once; if she didn't need the closure of seeing him laying harmless and silent in his coffin to believe that he was really gone, and that her long nightmare was truly over.

No one had come to pay respects to the former King. Regina had ordered the body to be laid in a closed coffin in the throne room while the Fearail prepared the gravesite, but not a single member of the Court had come to say farewell to the ruler they had once supported, however reluctantly.

Perhaps she shouldn't be here either, Regina mused. After all, she had been Jack's greatest victim; she was the one who benefitted most from his death. And she didn't grieve his loss; she wasn't so saintly as all that.

Perhaps she grieved the waste, the mess he'd made. Could he have been a good man, had life been kinder to him? Could he have stepped out of his mother's shadow and become more like his father, King Crispin, who by all accounts had been a kind and gentle ruler?

Or instead of a target for grief, perhaps she simply needed the physical proof that Jack was gone and that dark chapter of her life was well and truly closed. Either way, here she stood before her first husband's final resting place, bearing witness to his demise and searching for closure.

"I don't know that I'll ever understand what you did," she addressed him. "You nearly destroyed Crims, and you killed me. And for what? What did you stand to gain, with everything in ruins about you?"

Could he hear her, Regina wondered. In the Above, there was a widespread belief in an Afterlife, in Divine reward and retribution for one's deeds on Earth. In Wonderland there were no organized religions; there was rather a simple spirituality, a belief that the Spirit of Underland pervaded all created things, and that upon death one simply merged back into the Spirit. The Hightopps of course believed that their clan members became part of the Music of the Brae; Regina believed that the non-Hightopp dead soared into the heavens and became Stars. If that was indeed the fate that had come to pass, did Jack retain any individual consciousness, or was she addressing a being that no longer existed, save in her memories?

"I don't know if you can hear me," she said softly. "But whether you still exist, as Spirit or Star or if you're only a memory, I want you to know… I haven't forgiven you yet. But I'm trying. And it's not for you," she added harshly, leveling a glare at his headstone. "The things you did, what you nearly brought to pass… you don't deserve forgiveness, mine or anyone's. I'm doing this because I need to. Because I want nothing of our past to darken my future."

Drawing a deep breath, Regina nodded. She knew without question that she would never return here; she had no interest in lingering with Jack's remains. She had said everything that needed to be said; it was time to let go and move on.

"Fairfarren, Jack," she whispered, before turning her back on him and walking away.

* * *

As far as reunions went, this was one of the more awkward Dafydd could remember. Not as bad as the one post-Niall, but close.

At Regina's insistence, he'd left her and the baby home alone for a couple of days. Ioan, Lily, the White Children, and Gregan had finally returned home from Accor, and Regina had insisted that Dafydd go to Berserka to meet the ship, and escort his nephew to Tearmunn. Objectively, he knew they'd be fine for a day or two. Regina was in Aderyn's capable hands, with Clover and Azalea on hand to see to her comfort. Madoc stood guard over her, with her Kittens' "help," and Tarrant had come to spend a few days with his grandson. Dafydd planned to be home late that night, or very early the next morning if travel took longer than usual, and the chance for something to go seriously wrong in the meanwhile was small.

But this was Regina, whose talent for getting into serious trouble in less than five minutes was fast becoming legendary. She was only slowly recovering from childbirth (to Gwynyth's consternation), and while the grave, sweet maturity of motherhood suited her, her white hair and pale skin were very visible reminders of how close he'd come to losing her again.

And what of Andras? His newborn son was terrifyingly helpless; what if he continued his mathair's unfortunate pastime of being kidnapped? Andras hadn't slept much last night, which meant neither Regina nor Dafydd had slept; what if his cranky fussing was too much for Regina and Tarrant to handle? Regina had refused a wet nurse, saying she wanted to care for their child herself, but what if the strain was too much for her delicate state?

"You know, you never used to be this anxious."

Dafydd blinked, jerking to look at his very amused sister-in-law.

"Take a breath, Dafydd," Briallen grinned. "You're working yourself into a worse fit than many mamans I've seen."  
He huffed out a sigh. "Sorry. It's just-"  
"I know," she said warmly. "Welcome to parenthood. Niall was never particularly good about leaving Gregan alone either."

Dafydd swallowed, but the reminder of his brother was welcome for once, instead of painful. Well, maybe welcome and painful. But still, progress. He'd take it.

"He would be so proud, brawd," Briallen said, her eyes sparkling with tears. "He'd never stop teasing you, of course. But he would be proud of you."

Dafydd set his jaw and looked away, his eyes just as shiny as hers. It made Briallen's heart hurt to see him visibly tamping down his grief; would he never forgive himself for the terrible things that had happened that Day?

Swallowing back his sorrow, Dafydd drew a deep, mostly-steady breath and headed inside to seek out his nephew.

He knew the gist of what had occurred in Accor; Ioan had contacted him via Looking Glass and informed him that Gregan had had his first brush with Madness. Ioan had been relieved to learn that Bri and Niall had given Gregan the Madness talk when they still dwelled in the Outlands. But Dafydd had agreed that he and his nephew had some unfinished business, and that a man-to-man talk would be in order as soon as Gregan was home from Oversea.

And now the time had come.

He led Gregan into Tarrant's study in the High House, observing his nephew. Considering how rocky their relationship had been for the last several months, Gregan looked calm enough as he sat in one of the armchairs before the empty fireplace. Granted, part of that "calm" was likely the exhaustion that tended to linger after an episode of Madness. Fits of Madness could be brutal, and afterwards leave one with no energy for fights that might otherwise be explosive.

But Dafydd hoped that at least a little of Gregan's calm was genuine, and the result of being back in a familiar place.

Dafydd drew a breath as guilt reasserted itself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, as he shut the door. "I haven't done right by you, Gregan, and you've suffered for it."

Gregan looked at him, thoughtfulness in his gaze. His time away from home had Aged him, Dafydd realized; forced him into the adulthood he hadn't fully accepted before. He'd shot up another several inches, grown into his long limbs and the intense blue eyes he'd inherited from his father and grandfather. Fates, he looked so much like Niall… Dafydd couldn't help but silently mourn the passing of the little boy he'd loved like his own.

"I've been angry," Gregan said, his voice deeper and more self-assured than Dafydd remembered. "For years, I've been so angry with you. You left us in the Outlands to be with _her_, and when you finally came back… You were different. It felt like you didn't care about your family anymore, like _she_ was all that mattered to you."

The denial sprang up instantly, and he bit it back only with the greatest of efforts. Now was not the time; let Gregan have his full say first. At the very least he owed his nephew that.

"You brought us to Annwyn," Gregan continued, his voice softening in memory of the place he had loved— and still couldn't get back home to, damn Jack a thousand times. "A real home, permanent stone walls and our own land. Everything you and Da ever wanted."

He drew a deep breath, running an agitated hand through his mop of blond hair.

"And then you left us again," he said, every word a dagger in Dafydd's heart. "Everything we ever wanted, _you_ ever wanted… And you didn't even look back when you left. You just gave it all up. For _her_." He shook his head, making full eye contact for the first time. "Why did you choose _her_ over your family?"

Dafydd paused until he was sure Gregan's question wasn't rhetorical. He ran a hand over his shorn head, licking his lips as he searched for the right words.

"I love her," he finally said. "She saved my life. She makes me want to be better. She's… she's my guiding star." He paused, meeting his nephew's gaze. "I hope you find someone like that someday."

A muscle twitched in Gregan's jaw, and he looked away.

"Does she… does she understand you?" he asked hesitantly. "Like she can see straight into your deepest core?"  
"Yes," Dafydd nodded, absently rubbing the scar Heartbreak had left on his left shoulder. "She sees every part of me, and she loves me anyway."

Gregan was quiet for a long moment, clearly processing that. Then he shook his head.

"She still took you from us," he said.  
"She didn't," Dafydd admitted, quick to come to his bride's defense. "I chose to stay away."  
"Why?" Gregan asked, his voice cracking on the word as his eyes filled with sorrow.  
Dafydd blew out a long breath, bracing his hands on the mantle. "After your da died… I couldn't face you," he admitted, shame and guilt weighing heavy on his tongue. "What I'd done. I still can't, most days."

Gregan clenched his jaw, folding his arms tightly for a long minute. When he spoke, he didn't make eye contact.

"What happened? That day?"

Dafydd swallowed hard, squaring his shoulders. This was going to hurt. He was probably going to permanently sever the bond between himself and Gregan; he would likely never be forgiven for the deed he was about to confess to. But Gregan deserved the truth.

"I was Mad with grief, thinking Regina was dead," he explained, forcing the words past the lump in his throat as he remembered that horrible Day. "And once I knew there was a fight coming, I was lost in my Battlelust. Tarrant and I got to the Brae, and I saw Niall and Regina in combat. I only had one thought left in the Madness— to keep her safe. I knocked Niall away from her, but he attacked again. So I killed him."

Gregan nodded slowly. He certainly didn't look _happy_, but he did seem… more at peace. It was like that, sometimes; sometimes, receiving that missing puzzle piece truly did help you heal.

"If you hadn't been Mad… And Da had attacked her… Would you have stopped him?" Gregan asked hesitantly.  
Dafydd paused, giving the question its due consideration. "Yes," he finally decided. "I would have stopped him. But I wouldn't have killed him. He was my brother, Gregan. Damn near my athair, after Da died. I loved him. I still do."  
"You just… Love her more." Gregan exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair. "I can't… I need to be on my own, for a while," he decided. "I'm going to Marmoreal. Finish my apprenticeship there."  
"Of course," Dafydd nodded.  
"But when that's finished… when Annwyn's rebuilt… I want to go home," he continued. "I don't know if I'll want to stay there, or go back to Marmoreal, or maybe Oversea. But I'd like to go home, at least for a while."  
"You'll always be welcome," Dafydd promised. "Annwyn will be yours, Gregan. The title is going to pass to you, if you want it."

Gregan nodded, walking toward the door. He paused, hand on the knob, before turning back to face Dafydd.

"I don't know how I feel about all of this," he admitted. "I don't know if I'm going to hate you in the morning. But thank you. For telling me the truth."  
Dafydd nodded, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. "I'm never going to lie to you."

Gregan nodded, then strode out of the study, quietly shutting the door behind him. Left alone, Dafydd slowly lowered himself into his armchair, exhaling slowly. Well. That certainly could have gone a lot worse. Maybe someday they would be alright again.

* * *

The brilliant summer sun shone warmly down on the lush gardens, playing nice with the breeze that danced through the leaves and flowers. The sounds of his music and the noises of the party just beyond— clinks of silverware on china, laughter, an enthusiastic lobster quadrille— mingled with the wind, but for right now Gregan felt no compunction to rejoin the festivities yet. Maybe later.

He hadn't been present for the actual ceremony that crowned Nerissa Queen; that was apparently a ritual only other Queens (and, in the case of White Queens, their Champions) could witness. He, like everyone else in the palace, had instead attended the Waiting Party.

Nerissa had emerged from her Queenmaking a little over an hour ago, to joyous and raucous celebration from her new subjects. Not long after her presentation as the Diamond Queen of Marmoreal, Gregan had slipped away to this sheltered garden retreat, to be alone with his thoughts.

"Why did you come to Marmoreal?"

He should've known better than to think he'd be alone for long.

From where he sat beneath a cherry tree, one leg bent and the other outstretched, he looked up at her. Her gown was short, falling to the knee, and strapless. It was white, the skirt a mass of some soft, light material. Whatever it was made of, the dress perfectly set off her pale skin and the white-blond hair she'd inherited from her mother. Twinkling on her head sat her crown. It was by far the simplest of all the Queen's crowns in Underland; a delicate silver circlet, set with shimmering moonstones. Though she carried soft dancing slippers in one hand, she was barefoot. The ensemble made her look Otherworldly, like one of the fairies in Queen Alice's Uplandish children's stories.

"Why did you leave your party?" he countered.  
She shrugged. "It's loud."

Well, she had a point.

On dainty feet she crossed to sit beside him, waving him off when he shifted to help her. When she and her skirts were comfortably arranged, they sat for a time in silence, enjoying the weather and the sounds of merriment.

"You took the White Vow?" he asked, sensing in her the tranquil passivity that Vow was said to impart.  
"Gigi and I took it together," she nodded. "She wanted to renew her Vows, after everything, and I always intended to make them, Queen or not."  
He nodded his understanding. "Who's your Champion?"  
"Lily and Ioan," she replied. Upon seeing his raised eyebrow, she grinned. "They were bickering about who should do it, so Underland took them both. Ioan will focus more on generaling the Army and Lily'll be my adviser, and they're both counted Queen's Champion. I think it'll work. Even if they did glare at me something awful for making them Duke and Duchess of the Allamond, but the title comes with the job, so they can stuff it."  
Gregan smiled faintly. "You'll be well protected."  
"Even Alice and Tarrant couldn't do better," Nerissa agreed. "Lily's quite pleased to be joining their ranks, as husband-and-wife Champions."

They lapsed into companionable silence again, luxuriating in the sun and company. It was the most at peace Gregan had felt in months, and he relished it.

"Why did you come here?" Nerissa asked softly, turning her head to look at him fully. "I thought you hated my family."

Gregan shrugged one shoulder, looking out toward the party to get his thoughts in order.

"I did," he admitted. "I'm still angry about the history. And I still think your family wronged mine." He paused, then looked at her. "But you're not that history."  
She shook her head. "No, I'm not."  
"Annwyn won't be rebuilt for months yet. I can't stay in Tearmunn right now," he said, his gaze dropping to the ground. "And Crims is…"

He shuddered, his mind racing with bad memories of a place to which he never wanted to return. The squeeze of her hand recalled him, and he squeezed her fingers gratefully, staring at their entwined fingers (when had that happened?).

"But here… You're safe," he continued. "You're not part of the Regina mess or anything that happened in Crims, and you're not part of what happened between my da and my uncle. You're…"  
"Safe," she completed his thought, her face full of understanding.  
He nodded. "Yeah."  
"I can work with that," she said, before nudging him. "If you mean to stay a while, I happen to need a Court Composer."  
He smiled. "I can work with that," he parroted back at her.

They smiled at each other, in complete accord. Then, as if on a silent signal, they stood, and he solicitously offered her his arm, which she took with a warm smile. Arm in arm, they returned to the party, leaving garden idylls and confessions behind.

* * *

They danced through the silent halls of Isla Affalin, moving to music they heard in their blood and bones. The only sounds were the swishes of her skirt, their shoes whispering and clicking against the white marble floor, and their occasional low laughter. The way was dim, lit only by starlight and a periodic brace of candles on the wall, but that didn't bother them; they didn't need much light to make their way through the castle down to the grand ballroom.

Strictly speaking, they hadn't needed to throw a ball to celebrate Dafydd's Kingmaking. He had become a King the moment he married Regina; there had been no grand ceremony like Regina had undergone. The first six weeks since meeing the Heart had gone by relatively smoothly, and uneventfully. Personally, Dafydd would have been fine skipping all the rigamarole and simply having a private all-night-and-most-of-the-morning celebration with his wife. But Regina, in typical stubborn Regina fashion, had insisted. There was so much to celebrate, she had said. Spring had melted into a truly glorious Summer, Crims was on the mend (slowly) and had a new King, they were married, their little Prince was three months old, and after months of struggle and Heartache and danger, everything was finally alright again. Surely after having passed through darkness and fire, now was the time to celebrate.

They hadn't come through the trials unscathed, of course. Sorrow and adversity had Aged them both; Dafydd was perhaps thirty now, and Regina wasn't far behind him. They both carried scars, both physical and psychic. Dafydd's shoulder, mangled as it had been by Heartbreak, was still stiff, and ached when his spirits dampened; the mottled scar on Regina's side would never truly heal, and she would always be vulnerable to the ravages of the Chill. They were both still nursing griefs and emotional wounds, and while it was easier to face those pains together it would be a very long time before they healed, if they ever did.

But Regina made a damned good point. The important thing was, they had survived the fire. They were alive, and they were together, and together they would build themselves a new tomorrow.

But first, they would throw a ball.

And so Regina had planned the festivities to her heart's desire. There were decorations of purple and gold, live butterflies fluttering overhead, and an orchestra to play until they dropped of exhaustion. It would certainly be a party to remember, even if Dafydd was still secretly hoping he could convince Regina to retire early.

Still, even if he couldn't whisk her away, he would be content to watch her, Dafydd thought to himself. Regina was always beautiful to him, but tonight she was a vision. She wore Tarrant's exquisite sapphire blue butterfly dress, paired with some of her iridescent opal jewelry. She wore no crown tonight; instead her white curls were pinned up with hairpins topped with blue and purple velvet butterflies. She looked ready to fly away, and Dafydd hoped he was quick enough to catch her.

The ball had already begun over an hour ago, he knew. As was tradition, their entrance was meant to be the crowning spectacle of the night. Dafydd paused outside the double doors, attacked by a sudden case of nerves. What did it matter that he'd been King for months; this was his official inaugural ball. Behind those doors lay their future; the next chapter in a life that was so far removed from who he'd been four years ago that he wondered if he'd somehow fallen into someone else's existence. What awaited them, in this future?

Well, whatever it was, Dafydd thought, at least he wasn't facing it alone. It wasn't _his_ future; it was _theirs_. They ruled together, King and Queen and husband and wife. Whatever lay ahead, they would see it through together, always and forever. Everything would be alright; they would _make_ everything alright.

Regina nodded to the footmen to open the doors, and together they stepped forwards as Wagtail, their faithful Labrador Page, presented them.

"Announcing Her Majesty, Regina Miraget Praecordia, the Butterfly Queen of Crims! And His Majesty Dafydd Hightopp, the Lionheart King and Queen's Champion!"

They paused on the balcony as the entire room made their obeisance. In return, Dafydd sketched a shallow bow as Regina dipped into a graceful curtsey, before they descended down the grand staircase.

The second the royals reached the floor, Duchess Contrary signaled the musicians. Dafydd couldn't help but smile to himself as Regina perked up impossibly further; she wasn't so much walking as she was _bouncing_. He knew what was expected of him, not only as King, but as Regina's Champion. Her desire was clear on her face, and he was honor-bound to bow to her every wish.

Without bothering to wait for her to turn to him, Dafydd swept her into the first dance of the rest of their lives.

* * *

**Additional Author**'**s** **Note**: And that's all she wrote. Well, almost. There will be four more chapters posted in _BTP_ – an Epilogue, two AU chapters, and a chapter of deleted content. Look for those in December, as throughout November I will be participating in "Finish Your Shit Month."Until then, dear readers, this is _The Wonderland Chronicles: Game of Thrones_, signing off.


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